Crumble to Infinity
by 100reasonswhy
Summary: After a fatal plane crash, Louise Darmer finds herself stranded on an island with a group of boys. Naturally shy and achingly timid, she is thrown into the pitfalls of man as inner darknesses are unearthed and unmasked. As carnal desires engulf the group, innocence is threatened and civility is slaughtered.
1. A Crude Awakening

**WHAT'S THIS MOCKERY? IS 100REASONSWHY ACTUALLY ATTEMPTING TO WRITE SOMETHING SERIOUS? AND A GIRL-ON-THE-ISLANDS-FIC AS WELL?**

**Rated T for now. Might change later. Idk. I'll see what I feel like doing when I get to it.**

**Meh. Whatevs. Alright, ENJOY :D**

**Soundtrack: Behind the Sea - Panic! At the Disco**

**Disclaimer**: Don't own anything.

**Note**: Nada.

**Warnings**: Language, I guess? Descriptive gore.

**Enjoy ~**

* * *

**A Crude Awakening**

"**A daydream spills from my corked head and breaks free of my wooden neck. Left to nod over sleeping waves."**

The bitter taste of salt was embedded on her lips, and as a warm breeze grazed along her slack form, the bedraggled girl lifted her sore head and gazed around.

Louise Darmer was not a beautiful girl, not even normally, but now, with the remnants of broken twigs and shredded leaves threaded into her dark brown hair, she felt more homely than usual. Her arm hurt something awful, and there was a purpling bruise along her thigh.

_Thigh_?

The beige stockings that normally concealed the just of her legs were shredded upon, adorned with lovely little red scratches. Her skirt was hardly in a better condition, and she couldn't even bring herself to _think_ about her blouse...

Nauseated and weary, Louise stretched her bruised legs and arose. The sunlight was shattered between the snake-like branches of the trees - tethered and laced in thick vines. Ignoring the throbbing sensation in her head, Louise trekked forward, tripping over a protruding tree trunk in the process. She fell, cursed, and rose again, determined in at least catching her balance. The crash had left her disoriented and clumsy, two traits that not even Louise found familiar. The thought struck at her, jabbed at her mind, and with a quiet gasp, she stared around the strange surroundings in confusion.

_The crash_!

She remembered now - vaguely, but it was still something. There had been an evacuation - yes, and she and Gracie had boarded the plane together, hand in hand, quivering with the same fearful anticipation. They had sat next to each other when the rumble started up. Like the great belly of a beast, the plane started to shake and tremble, growling with the ferocity of an animal. Louise faintly recalled the hideous shriek of the thing as it plummeted down into what seemed like a never-ending abyss, and then only darkness.

Louise gently touched her left hand, the one that Gracie had clutched as the plane crashed down. There were fingernail marks from her hard grip, little indents that acted as sickly reminders for the disastrous flight.

_Gracie_.

Louise's heart thrummed hard against her chest. The was no evidence of the plane anywhere, almost as if the entire thing had been swallowed into the sea.

_Into the sea_.

_Gracie_.

Louise darted through the forest, desperately hoping to find her lost friend. _Gracie_. The slight girl with two blonde plaits and a constant cough. Little Gracie, the only one who hadn't rejected Louise for her absurd fears and skeptical ways. Louise questioned everything, and with reason, too.

Her leg throbbed with pain, but her hunger to find her friend was far too strong and led her to disregard any means of suffering. She may have survived the crash, but that didn't mean that the other twenty-four children lived as well.

_Gracie_.

She could see the scattered remains of the monstrous plane, twisted and broken at odd angles. Mangled, almost.

_She's got to be here_.

Trees were turned over from where the thing had swooped down. Birds screeched in restless agony, and from the strong scent of heavy fumes, she could tell she was getting closer.

_In the wreckage. She'll be fine. In the wreckage_.

The skeleton of plane was nowhere to be seen, but there was a patch of shrubs where a stack of wreckage lay. Beneath the wreckage, Louise could make out the bloodied form of a limb - an arm, she reckoned. An arm with a golden bracelet.

_Gracie's bracelet_.

"Oh god, oh god, oh _god_ no." Sweat beaded along Louise's brow, and with a quaking hand, she reached out to touch Gracie.

Gracie's touch was cold. Her hand fell slack and limp in Louise's urgent grip. She tugged gently on her friend, withholding the tears that threatened to fall. Her heart was a hard drum against the warm flesh of her chest, and with careful tact, the girl released her friend's hand and pried at the wreckage that crushed her.

Gracie was terribly mangled. Her fair skin was marred by blackened burns and reddening lacerations. The blast of the crash seared off all her pretty blonde hair, and now all that remained of the once beautiful girl was a mutilated mass of flesh and a gaping mouth, frozen in mid-shriek.

Louise was incapable of tears. They brimmed at the edge of her cobalt eyes, but none would spill. Her entire body shook, shook at the sight of her dead friend, shook at the luck that somehow, she had lived. Her fingers tightened over Gracie's lifeless arm, and with a shaken breath, Louise looked up into the sky.

_Dead. All of them_.

The brief thought that perhaps she was the only survivor crossed her mind, and with an aching heart, Louise was tempted to believe it. What if she was? What if everyone else suffered the same brutal fate as Gracie? She couldn't bring herself to fathom it, so instead, Louise curled up beside her dead friend and squeezed her eyes shut.

_Maybe I'll will myself to death_.

The thought was morbid, but comforting all the same.

* * *

"I think it's a girl."

The small boy glanced at his curious friend and sniggered.

"She's dead."

"I don't think so."

"Look at her. She's _dead_."

Frustrated gazes met, and with an aggravated huff, the small boy knelt beside the motionless girl and sat.

"She's dead, Johnny. _Look_-"

"I _am_." Johnny felt obliged to prove his friend wrong. After all, it was a miracle they were even still alive. Until now, they couldn't remember exactly how they arrived on the island - that's what they presumed it was. But after stumbling across the bits of pieces of wreckage, they discovered the two 'sleeping' girls and instantly remembered the crash.

Johnny's thoughts drifted to the inevitable as his friend mindlessly poked the brunette girl.

"Hey!" Johnny growled. "Stop that, Henry! You might anger her spirit, and then she'll come and haunt us! Haven't you ever read the _books_?"

"What books?" Henry's gaze was mocking, and with a tart smile, he went to poke the girl once more.

Both the boys heard a groan, and then a grunt. Henry fell back from his comfortable position, followed shortly by Johnny. The boys were terrified as one of the assumed dead girls groggily sat up.

Johnny made a quiet squeak of a scream. "Look what you did!"

"I didn't do it!"

"You annoyed her and now her spirit's come to get us!"

Henry ignored his friend and watched as the girl yawned and stared around, her face marked by dirt and dried blood. She looked strange and awfully scared - nearly as scared as Johnny, and when she saw the two boys, her mouth quickly fell open into a scream. Theirs shortly followed, and before long, the forest was pierced by the sound of frightened squeals.

The girl was the first to snap out of her daze of trepidation.

"Wait a minute..." She leaned forward, sending both the boys sprawling back. After a moment, her dark blue eyes were ablaze in something the boys could only identify as relief. With a small grin, she scooted towards them. "You...you're just two little boys!"

The duo nodded in synch, like two frightened little puppies. This made the girl's smile grow.

"I...I'm not the only one who survived...There's...there's more..." Suddenly she was clinging up against them, fingernails curling into the dark earth below. "Tell me, what are your names?"

Johnny nudged Henry in the side and cleared his throat.

"I...I'm Johnny, and this is Henry."

They were met with a cruelly sweet smile. The girl held out her hand and spoke with languid excitement.

"I'm Louise, but you can call me Lou."

The three children sat there in silence, each absorbed in their own thoughts. Louise seemed to forget about her rotting friend, overcome by the joy of finding two more survivors. The boys were a good bit younger than her - five years, at the least - but were company all the same.

It was Henry who finally broke the tedious silence.

"We...we thought you were dead...because of...because of..."

His grim look told Louise that the two boys had seen Gracie's mangled form. She tried t dismiss the sudden guilt that boiled within her stomach, but it was strong and feverish, a feeling she knew would probably never truly go away. The sound of buzzing flies was loud in her sensitive ears, and when the image of her dead friend resurfaced, she was overwhelmed with the instinct to curl back up in a ball and go to sleep. At least that way she could rest.

Johnny was about to speak when a foreign sound came clashing through the forest. It was like a trumpet, only louder, with great ambience and resonance. The three children glanced in wary curiosity, and without a second thought, Henry was clumsily arising, gripping the crude edge of a palm tree as he stood. Johnny followed him, assisting himself by pulling on his friend's navy blazer. The noise sounded once more, and the two boys regarded each other with the same feverish excitement.

Without another word, the two boys made a run for the forest, leaving Louise dumbfounded and mildly annoyed.

At second thought, Henry glanced back around at the girl and called, "C'mon, then!"

She watched as the child tripped and stumbled over a branch, and with a heavy heart, trudged along to follow them. After all, her leg was throbbing with irritable pain now, the wounds aggravated from running earlier on. Louise hadn't an idea as to where the thundering sound was coming from, but whatever it was, it was deafening. Scary, even.

Louise followed the two boys, now only blurs of navy blue and blonde hair, through the thick tendrils of forest. The noise thundered once more and sent shivers through Louise's worn frame. She watched as the two boys fumbled from the forest's edge, and suddenly, the sight of pallid sand and shimmering water was visible. The sound of waves crashing against the rocky shore sent her nerves ablaze, and with wide eyes, she drank in the sight with greedy ardor.

_The beach_...At her summer home in Liverpool, the beach had been a common sight, but _this_, with the Caribbean blue water and sun-baked sand...it was unlike anything she had ever seen, and it was thrilling. Enthralling even. For a moment, all thoughts of the plane crash were washed away. Louise, enveloped by the beauty before her, descended into a state of numb pleasure. It was glorious, all of it, from the whitewashed shore to the array of palm trees scattered along the beach.

Louise could see Johnny and Henry blundering tactlessly towards two smudges in the distance. At a closer look, she made out the distinct form of two boys - older than Johnny and Henry, but young nonetheless. Curiously, the brunette edged closer, yielding caution as she went, until finally, she reached the sandy clearing where the boys now stood.

She gazed intently at the scene before her. There was Johnny and Henry, who were now chatting eagerly to a small cluster of other small boys with fruit smeared faces. More boys lounged against a fallen palm tree and laughed, completely unfazed by the accident of the plane. It was a mixture of ripped blazers and yellow striped ties, blue sweaters and discarded socks. For a moment, Louise was stunned by the normalcy of their situation until she was tapped out of her daydream. She looked away from the swarm of boys and turned her attention to the boy who stood impatiently before her.

"What's your name?"

He was rather chubby, with flushed, sweat-glistened cheeks and a large pair of gleaming specs. She noticed that he was the only boy who held his uniform completely intact, and from the way he tilted his head in slight frustration, she could tell that held some sort of order over the entire procession.

Shyly, Louise gazed up at the boy and muttered, "Louise."

The boy nodded and stared beyond Louise, as if searching for more people. After a moment, he met her stare and frowned.

"Any more girls with you, or were you alone?"

Blush feathered along her cheeks as she bashfully dug her heel into the sand and shrugged.

"I...I dunno...I was with Gracie...but she...but she..."

The fat boy nodded in sudden sympathy and passed his tongue over his dry lips. She couldn't help but notice how he seemed to struggle to breathe.

"Well, if it's what me and Ralph suspected, the plane must have crashed along there, and then was swallowed up into the ocean. Most of the girls were seated t'wards the back, right?"

Louise gave a timid nod and the boy continued in a resilient manner.

"The back broke off when it hit the forest, you see, so if our assumptions are right, then...then..."

He didn't need to state what was now achingly obvious. Being at a coed boarding school meant having strict restrictions and rules. Even in an evacuation, the population had been severely segregated - girls in the back, boys up front. From the sight of the chattering boys before her, she inferred that many of the boys had managed to get out alive. The girls, however - well, she was the only one in sight, and with the fresh memory of Gracie's grotesque form...

Most, if not all, of the girls were dead. Gone. Mangled and distorted.

A single tear escaped from Louise's tired eyes. The boy heeded this with sudden compassion. She felt a warm hand on her shoulder and looked up to see the boy's warm smile.

"It'll be alright," He said. The trumpet-like noise sounded again - blaring now, probably because of the close distance. Unlike Louise, the boy didn't cringe at the bellow, and instead grinned. With a caring arm, he gently turned Louise around and nodded. "That's Ralph. He knows what he's doing, I reckon. He's the one who blew the conch - we found it together."

But his words fell on deaf ears, for now Louise was beguiled by the boy that stood only a few feet away. She recognized him almost instantly. He was from her Latin class - yes, that was him. The boy who sat in the back next to Michael Moore and Daniel Trent. Louise considered Ralph for a moment, remembered the way Mr. Olsen always favored him, and nearly smiled. At least it was a familiar sight, despite the fact that she had never actually _spoken_ to the boy. Nevertheless, there he stood, a pink frosted shell in hand, lips set in a small smirk. Piggy carefully pushed her forward and nodded.

"Go on! He's needs to know names, anyways."

She moved towards the tall boy, approaching him with quiet hesitance. Gracie had always said she was the shyest thing, especially with boy, to the point it had become an impediment. To her relief, Ralph looked down at her and smiled, then carelessly jumped down from the crooked palm tree on which he stood. With a friendly grin, he tucked the shell beneath his arm and nodded at the girl.

"Hello."

_So he doesn't recognize me_. Louise wasn't surprised. After all, back at school, she stuck her group just as he stuck to his. It was expected of them. Now, on this strange place, they were forced to meet, much to Louise's dismay. She was never good when it came to conversing with other human beings.

Ralph gazed at her expectantly. "Are you alright?"

She scanned herself and noticed a nasty cut that embodied the majority of her calf. Louise stared back up at Ralph and blushed.

"I...I..."

"We don't know if there's any more girls," The fat boy said from behind her, allowing a moment for Ralph to digest his words. _The only girl_. Ralph turned back to Louise, his eyes suddenly melting with sore sympathy.

"Oh. Well...well, you're alright now. You'll be okay."

Louise choked on her words and cast away her gaze, embarrassed by her lack of communication. When she stared back up, Ralph had already turned away and was busy talking to a crowd of concerned boys. She drank him in, noting the way his golden hair fell in waves upon his forehead with a small smile. He was tall - maybe fifteen, and was just coming into his broadening shoulders and handsome features, all of which she regarded with practiced solace. His gaze was playful, enthralling, and almost as blue as the ocean. Her thoughts were interrupted as the fat boy hurriedly found her a seat and pushed her down, fixing his attention upon her wounds.

"You're hurt badly," He murmured. Louise hardly heard his quiet voice and replied with an inquisitive look.

"What's your name?"

The boy was shocked at her question, and with a gentle smile, touched his specs in humble gratitude.

"Oh, well, I'm-"

The bespectacled boy was cut off by the almost harmonic sound of singing. _Singing_? To Louise, the mere thought of song was foreign and surreal, distant even, like a memory. But now she heard it, loud and clear, growing from the distance. Soft, angelic voices, swaying as gently as the warm breeze. It broke the mindless chatter of children and interrupted Ralph's gaze of self-importance. Louise stared out along the horizon, and there right along shore were two uniform lines of black coats and pale skin. She squinted and leaned forward in efforts to gain a better look.

_Could it be...the choir_?

The choir, the prestigious gits of the school, as her brother once put it. Honor students, mostly, with pompous manners and selfish intentions. She had seen them before, strutting through the hallways as if they owned the place, with hard-set jaws and cold, stern eyes. They never paid heed to Louise or anyone she associated with - they were far below the standards of 'choir-worthy', as Gracie liked to put it. _Choir-worthy_. What an interesting endeavor this would be.

The choir made their way towards the platform, bound together in song and stroll. Ralph stared upon them with mild interest, leaning up against the palm tree casually. Once the choir reached the others, the boy at the front - the who looked like the evident leader - stopped and called for his followers to halt. The conversion fell still at the boy's icy look of apprehension, and with an imperious huff, he turned around and stood.

"Where's the man with the trumpet?"

Louise noticed red tufts of hair sticking out from under his black cap. _Ah yes, another familiar face_. She couldn't recall his name, but his ginger locks and matching freckles gave away his identity. _Head chorister, 'en't he?_ She tucked her legs towards her chest and watched as Ralph calmly walked out towards the boy.

"There's no man, only me." Ralph's voice was steady and smooth, almost as if he hadn't a worry in the world.

The redhead snorted and met Ralph's gaze. He was a good head taller than the blonde, but looked to be the same age. Ralph showed no signs of intimidation if he felt any, and somehow managed to keep a firm gaze with the boy.

The redhead finally looked away and retorted, "Are there any grown-ups? Where's Mr. Fields, or Mrs. Nance?"

Ralph shook his head and sighed.

"There are no adults. I think we're here alone."

"Alone?" A hideous smirk played upon the redhead's crumpled face. "No adults? I suppose we'll have to look after ourselves."

The choir sniggered at his words, but after a deadly glare from their leader, they were promptly silenced. Suddenly, a slight boy towards the back fell out of line and flopped headfirst into the sand, earning an accord of attention from the group. Louise almost arose to help him, but the fat boy forced her back down, as if revealing her identity would be a danger. The choir boys moved their fallen friend into the shade, and the redhead dismissed it quickly.

"Oh, he'll be alright. Always throwing a faint, Simon is."

With a wary glance at the unconscious boy, Ralph nodded and forcefully followed the redhead as he moved to lean beside his choir in the shade.

"What's your name?"

The redhead showed indifference at the question and tipped his head at the blonde.

"Children's names, I think! Jack - it's childish, _pedestrian_ even - so I prefer Merridew, if don't mind."

Ralph smiled and offered his hand. "I'm Ralph."

Jack took Ralph's outstretched hand and vacantly gestured to the choir. Almost immediately, the cloaked boys were rattling off their names.

There was Bill, who was about Ralph's size with similarly blonde hair and striking blue eyes. Next to him was Maurice, next in size to Jack, with a wide grin and chocolate brown curls. The skinny, short boy beside him named himself as Robert, and the boy next to him was Adam. Finally, there was a darkly intriguing boy with hair of ebony and a charcoal gaze. He spoke in a quiet voice, all the while managing to avoid the stares of his peers. He announced his name as Roger, and was silent once more. Simon, the fallen boy, had awoken, and with dopey brown eyes, he grinned and gave a friendly wave. Louise smiled. He reminded her of her little brother, Timothy. The thought was comforting.

Suddenly, the fat boy who had knelt down beside her, stood up and bravely sauntered towards the center where both Jack and Ralph stood. He diffidently strayed behind Ralph as he pointed towards the cluster of boys along the clearing.

"That's Nicholas, Michael, and - no, don't tell me - Sam and...Eric?"

For the first time, Louise spotted a pair of sandy-blonde twins who sat on the ground beside Henry. They smiled at each other before shaking their heads.

"_I'm_ Sam," Sam corrected proudly.

Eric played along with his brother's display. "And _I'm_ Eric."

The crowd laughed, and for a moment, even the fat boy was smiling. But then thing's were solemn again, and before long, the boy was serious.

The fat boy reached for the conch and began to speak. "We need to gather all the names and assign jobs-"

"Shut up, Fatty," Jack sneered, pitilessly shoving the boy from the center.

Snickers roared through the group, and Louise felt a pang of anger. _Stupid choirboys, always somehow managing to show their impudence in the most disrespectful ways_...

She wasn't mentally prepared when Ralph stepped out and shook his head, laughing.

"His name's not Fatty - it's _Piggy_!"

Now the throng of children erupted in mirth, chuckling till their heads bent forward and their stomachs lurched in desperation for relief. Louise watched in bitter contempt as the boys nearly crumbled in the heat of it all. Piggy had slowly wandered back towards Louise, his head lowered in humiliation. It made her insides burn. After all, she of all people could relate to the pettish taunts of her merciless peers. She got it enough back at school, and now here? She was glad that Jack hadn't noticed her yet, because if he had, she was sure he would make some pointless pun and force her back into her shelled existence.

After the boys finally recollected themselves, Ralph held the conch in pride and stared around at his peers.

"We should have a leader," he suggested thoughtfully. Louise rolled her eyes. _Almost as cocky as the choirboys, that Ralph is_. Not exactly what she had been hoping for when she initially saw the handsome figure of Ralph.

The crowd hooted in agreement, and with a curt smile, Jack stepped out in front of the blonde and raised his head.

"I should be chief. I'm chapter chorister and head boy, and I can sing C sharp."

A quiet clamor of chatter arose, but was silenced when Roger, the reclusive boy, subtly rose his hand and spoke up.

"We should have a vote."

This earned an accord of '_yeah's_' and '_of course_'s as Ralph held the conch to his lips and unearthed the bellowing sound. The crowd was quieted, and in the deafening silence of the moment, Ralph glanced between himself and Jack and cleared his throat.

"Alright. Who wants Jack to be chief?"

The choir obediently raised their hands, as did a few littluns - Henry included. Louise noticed this with disdain and shook her head. Quite frankly, she wanted neither one of them to be chief. They were both prideful idiots - Jack on his merits, Ralph on his conch.

Ralph lazily counted the hands and nodded.

"Right. Who wants me to be chief?"

The majority now raised their hands, hollering in unleashed admiration for the blonde with the shell. Piggy somewhat reluctantly joined the flock of hands, and with silent indignation, Louise followed. Ralph grinned at the sight and held the conch close to his clothed chest.

"Alright, I guess I'm chief."

Jack glared, but quickly hid his humiliation with a look of arrogant pity. The blonde glanced at his friend and smiled.

"The choir is yours, of course. You can do what you may with them."

Without a second thought, Jack raised an eyebrow in thoughtful cheer and grinned. "They'll be hunters."

The choir stared at their leader dumbly, almost as if they hadn't the slightest idea at why he had made them hunters. Nevertheless, they looked pleased, happy that they now held the most fierce position in the group.

Ralph smiled in satisfaction at Jack's easy choice and plopped down next to the twins on the sandy floor. "Well, it's settled then-"

"What about her?"

It was Henry who had spoken the ill-ridden words, and with flushed cheeks, Louise met the gazes of at least thirty-boys, all of whom stared in mild curiosity. She managed a smile before sinking back into her fazed shyness. Ralph seemed bewildered at the question, but Jack, likewise, somehow knew exactly what to say.

"She can be a maid, of course." His icy gaze stung Louise's skin. "Isn't that what all women are supposed to do?"

The boys were in another fit of laughter. Louise blushed furiously now, and tried to snap back at the boy, but her voice was hoarse and came as a quiet squeak, too intimidated by his powerful demeanor. After a moment, Henry piped up again.

"But she's the _only_ girl."

This intrigued Jack. Ignoring Ralph's sudden look of distaste, the redhead moved closer towards Louise, a mocking smirk plastered upon his freckled face. As he grew closer, the girl drew away, turning her red face in the opposite direction. Jack smiled, disregarded Piggy, and knelt down beside her. They eyes of every boy burned into his cloaked back, and with malicious intent, Jack reached out and touched the gash along her leg.

"You would think," he drawled, running a slender finger along her wound. Her heart thrummed at his touch, and her flesh was nearly on fire with the sudden pain. Louise suppressed a groan and squeezed her eyes shut as the boy continued smugly. "...that all the girlies would've died in the crash, hm?"

When she showed no evident reaction, he reached out and grabbed her chin, forcing her blue eyes to clash with his. His grip was firm and not at all gentle, and with a sly grin, he pulled her face to his and laughed.

"_Girls_."

With that, he discarded of Louise and threw her carelessly to the side. The crowd was silent, unsure of whether to laugh or boo. Ralph gazed on in contempt at Jack's actions and moved towards the girl who now lay curled up upon the sand.

Louise felt a soft hand at the back of her head and suddenly, her eyes were locked with the cobalt gaze of Ralph. A pent of annoyance went up through her - _what did he want_? After all, he made no move to interrupt Jack's spiteful actions, and he was the one to encourage Piggy's humiliation. She sat up quickly - too quickly - and nearly banged her forehead on Ralph's. Sweaty and embarrassed, Louise tried to look away, but once again, the blue gaze kept drawing her back, like the recessing tide of the dark sea.

"He didn't mean it," Ralph muttered quietly, rolling his eyes in annoyance at the redhead. "He's just being a git. Brush it off."

_Brush it off? Easy for you to say. You've never been teased or taunted. You're Golden Boy, remember? You get all A's in Latin, and you're everyone's favorite. Even the cocky choir is impressed by you_.

Louise managed to restrain her thoughts and nod at Ralph, allowing herself to keep peace. _Let it go_. Ralph helped her up and steadied her wobbly stance, smiling slightly as she leaned into him to catch her balance. The girl felt as if her insides were on fire when her eyes struck the expressions of the choir, all giggly and simpering.

_Idiots_.

Ralph had moved onto handing out more orders - something about a fire, she thought. But her mind drifted as the conversation droned on and on. The boys made an effort to exclude her, which hardly fazed the brunette at all. She was used to it by now. Suddenly, the Jack and Simon were wandering towards the forest, followed by an eager looking Ralph. He placed a gentle hand upon her shoulder as he passed her, awaking her from whatever daydream consumed her at the time. Louise looked up and met his warm smile. He gave her shoulder a friendly pat and gestured towards her wounds.

"We'll fix you up when I get back, alright?"

Louise nodded stiffly and Ralph went on.

"Don't worry about Jack, he's just immature."

_Immature_. Louise watched as the blonde ran to keep up with the other two boys, all the while grinning as if he had never been happier. It was right then and there that Louise decided that perhaps Gracie was the fortunate one.

* * *

**A/N**: I hope that wasn't too horrible, and I really hope I succeeded in making this realistic...kind of. Then again, the whole idea of LotF isn't really realistic. A bunch of kids miraculously survive a plane crash, but all the adults die? DOUBTFUL. Kidding. I love LotF. It's my life. That's one thing wrong with me.

So, I'd really appreciate it if you could give me some feedback on this. Was it gooooddd? Did you like it? Critique is appreciated (as always) BUT LET'S BE NICE, CHILDREN. Let's not forget that this is my first attempt at anything like this. Thank you for reading this, and if you have the time, please leave a review! Please? It'd make me super happy. Alright lovelies, I'm out!

**P.S**: RIP Gracie, who symbolizes Mary-Sue's. You were crushed in the plane crash, thank god.

* * *

**Bonus Content (because I've decided to do this from now on):**

**Jack Merridew: ***grins* Hello, ladies, look at your man, now back to me, now back at your man, now back to me. *is now sitting in a recliner* Sadly, he isn't me, but if he stopped using order and conches and switched to Sexy Savage, he could act like he's me. *gets up and starts walking through ominous scenery* Look down, back up, where are you? *is now on a speed boat* You're on a boat with the man your man could act like. What's in your hand, *has Piggy's glasses* back at me. I have it, it's some glasses with one lens to make a fire. Look again, the glasses are now diamonds. Anything is possible when your man acts like Sexy Savage and not a douche. *is on a horse* I'm on a horse. With Roger. *Roger is on back of the horse with awkward smile*

**END. :D**


	2. In Fire We Fester

**WOW. THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH :) I loved all of your amazing reviews...they made me SOO happy! I'm glad that Louise is likable so far! You have no idea how thrilled I actually am at that.**

**Soundtrack**: **A Lack of Color - Death Cab for Cutie**

**Disclaimer: **Don't own anything. Still don't own anything. If I did, then I'd be William Golding, and I'm not, so...

**Note: **Also (because I feel that this is important), everyone is a few years older (15, 16ish?), save the littluns.

**Warnings**: Nada.

**ALRIGHT. HEREWEGO ~**

* * *

**In Fire We Fester**

"**And when I see you, I really see you upside down."**

It was apparent that Piggy was hurt by Ralph's choice of companions to explore the island. Louise hadn't seen much of it, but it hadn't been hard to tell. From the way the poor boy now skulked around the clearing, obediently obeying Ralph's 'orders' and taking the names of boys he already knew, Louise recognized the extent of his distress. Needless to say, the discovery of his nickname already poisoned the boys against him, and with a pitying heart, Louise observed as a couple boys teased Piggy now.

_Shame_, she thought, gazing on as Piggy defiantly huffed and turned away. He was peculiar, but friendly all the same, and he had been the only one who hadn't found amusement in Jack's haughty play earlier on. That impressed Louise, so when Piggy stared over at her, she smiled, almost as if inviting him to join. _A friendly act_.

Friend.

It was comforting to think that, despite all odds, perhaps she could have _one_ friend on this dreaded island. Without Gracie she had been lost, and would continue to be displaced without her, but at least Piggy could perhaps lighten her burdened back.

The pain in her leg was raw and throbbing, and as Piggy sat down beside her, a few of the choir boys snickered and laughed. Louise looked away, flustered by their churlish behavior. Still, she made no act to stop them. She was just one girl, and compared to the flock of boisterous boys, she was practically nothing.

Nothing. It sure was an awful feeling. Like a void beneath Louise's gut. Sadly, the girl turned to Piggy and forced a small grin. He returned her act of kindness with a small nod and curled lips.

"We'll be alright," he said quietly, almost reading into her thoughts. The noise of laughter and gaiety swelled and faded amidst the pale blue sky and dusty beach.

* * *

"It's definitely an island."

Sun-flushed faces gazed back at the blonde, who held the conch firmly between his hands. Jack stood on his left size, staring out at the group before him in scrutiny. Louise stuck close to Piggy, who, for whatever reason, was slowly gravitating towards Ralph. It was as if he found satiating solace in being close to the prominent leader, whereas Louise was only annoyed. She sat on a fallen palm tree, legs crossed and hands situated firmly on her lap, like any proper lady should sit. Her dark hair was mussed and tangled, tumbling long and wavy down her back. The wind rustled it and breezed through the thin cotton of her shirt. She felt the warm sun on her skin and wished for the cool, spring nights of London, where the rain came often and the city apexed in excitement.

Ralph cleared his throat, awaking Louise from her mindless thoughts. She had a tendency to drift, as her teachers liked to say. It wasn't a bad quality, but she had trouble focusing, especially when the object of attention was as self-seeking as Ralph.

"We can fun on this island," Ralph continued, meeting the gaze of his dutiful followers. "There's no one else here, only us. Our plane was shot down - nobody knows we're here."

His words fell upon the clearing with dark truth. Louise briefly remembered Gracie's mangled form and shivered, trying to dispel the horrible image from her mind. The guilt of leaving the girl was eating away at her tired heart.

Jack spoke up from beside the chief, nodding his head as he talked.

"There's pigs which we can hunt, and lots of fruits. There's a stream that runs through the forest. Bunch of fun, I'd say."

"Yes," Ralph agreed, giving the redhead a timid smile. "We found an impressive amount of things out there. I'd like to think-"

The blonde was interrupted by the sound of soft laughter from a cluster of littluns. Louise threw a lazy glance in the direction of the mirth, gazing on as a few boys urged their whimpering friend forward towards Ralph. The boy couldn't have been older than six, perhaps, and was marked by a large mulberry blot that covered the expanse of his left cheek. The group watched in weary patience as the child moved forward, sniveled, and turned towards Ralph.

The blonde looked upon the child with ebbing sympathy.

"Alright," he muttered, waving the boy forward. "Come on then."

The boy, frightened by the hungry eyes turned towards him, bashfully reached out for the conch. His eyes were wide and panicked, and his hands trembled as he grabbed for the shell, arousing a pent of laughter from the assembly.

From beside Louise, Piggy shifted and raised his hand, as if to calm the group.

"Hey! Let him speak!" Piggy demanded, displaying more confidence than Louise knew he possessed. The group quieted forcibly and turned their mocking smirks back upon the now-sobbing boy. Even with the great shell in hand, the small child had been coaxed from speaking, terrified and humiliated from the fit of laughter. His voice was a squeak, a mere breath of air, and with a heavy sigh, Piggy arose and knelt down beside him, listening as the child instinctively whispered his urgent message.

After a moment, Piggy stared up from the boy and said, "He wants to know what you're going to do about the snake-thing."

Ralph was the first to laugh at the absurd sentiment, and the others followed. Louise felt her heart thrashing madly against her chest. _Humiliating a poor little boy like that! What kind of chief is he?_

"Snake-thing?"

Piggy dipped his head for the boy to whisper again and was silent.

"Now he says it's a beastie," Piggy explained, watching in chary patience as the group erupted once more. Louise only sat and stared, hands clenched, skin feverish from the scorching sun. Her mind told her that their laughter was wrong - with Ralph leading it too! It made her sick.

With a smirk, Ralph stepped forward and arrogantly shook his head. "There's no beastie. Not here."

"Probably a nightmare," one of the choirboys - Louise thought it was Robert - said from behind his friends. An accord of agreement spewed up from the adolescents, but even so, Jack took the conch from the small boy and stood with authoritative delight over his peers.

"There's no beastie, as Ralph said, and even if there is, me and my hunters will kill it. See? We'll get meat and pigs for everyone, and we'll hunt the beast too-"

"Alright, alright!" Ralph had snatched back the conch from the redhead, and his cocky smirk was replace by twisted frustration. "Now, we need to get rescued - that's our priority. Is that understood?"

A few children nodded, but most remained icily still, clinging onto the fervor of Jack's previous words. One boy - Louise thought it was Johnny, but it was hard to tell, especially now that his face was caked in remnants of whatever fruit he had divulged himself in- timorously raised his fingertips and reached for the conch. Once situated with the pink shell, he arose and quietly spoke.

"We could...we could build a fire. You know, for smoke."

The idea took to the group, and almost immediately, they were rising and making plans - it'd be on the mountain, the hunters would keep fire watch, _the fire was the priority_. Louise noted this with disdain. _Rescue_. The thought sounded surreal, and to be comical, the idea that such a destructive thing as fire would be their asset to being rescued made her cringe. Fire consumed, destroyed, and lily-livered Louise was anything but.

There was an uproar of applause, and suddenly, Louise was being pushed and shoved by eager bodies, all fighting for the first spot atop the mountain to light the fire. She caught a flash of red and knew Jack was leading the procession, followed closely by the raven haired boy Roger. Disregarding the injury on her leg, Louise arose and attempted to at least follow the swarm of boys. Almost immediately, she tripped over a careless foot, stumbled, and saved herself at the last moment. With flushed cheeks, she felt a warm hand curl around her elbow and gingerly help her to feet. Once she was standing firmly again, she was met by concerned blue eyes and pursed lips.

"You alright?" Ralph asked, eyeing the injury on her leg with anxious worry.

Weakly, the girl nodded and gently tugged her arm away from his tender grasp. Her face was red, her skin swathed in sweat and grime. Ralph took a final look at the laceration and shook his head.

"First thing when we get back, I'm fixing you up. Now c'mon, I'll help you up the mountain."

Blushing, Louise reluctantly complied.

* * *

The tongues of flame licked up into the smoke soaked sky with feverish ardor. Louise watched in sickened repulsion as Ralph released his hold on Piggy's glasses, smiling valiantly. A fire had been ignited, and now grew mercilessly against the folds of the warm, island breeze. Cheers combusted against the gnaw of fire against bark, and with a slight smirk, Ralph stepped away from the ever-growing fire.

Unlike the audacious applause, which had silenced moments ago, the fire didn't cease. It grew, hungry and desperate for fuel, and devoured the helpless matter around it. Seeing the fire's refusal to restrain, Louise gently tapped Ralph on the shoulder and pointed at the glowing beast - a silent warning, in her mind. Ralph lazily looked in the direction of her gesture and gasped, overwhelmed by the sudden threat of being burned alive. Wordlessly, he stared around at the others, but they already had noticed the fiery monster. Cheers were replaced with screams as children bounded down the mountain side, tumbling and thrashing like a herd of animals, Louise among them.

The blunt force on her injured leg was brute and painful, but the close proximity of heat and fire urged her forward. The girl tripped and stumbled, but forced her way back up, following the swarm of bodies down the hill. All at once, the entire thing came to a drooping standstill, and suddenly Louise found herself clambering clumsily on the grit of damp sand, hair matted and thick with the scent of smoke.

The boy with mulberry mark from earlier was no where to be seen.

* * *

"Got it in the crash, then?"

One of the boys generously offered their shirt as a make-shift bandage for Louise's gaping wound. Ralph fitted the flimsy thing across her leg, gently cleaning in with sea water. It hurt like hell, but Louise manage to suppress her groans of agony. She still had hardly said a word to the blonde - to anyone, really - and now that a direct question was posed at her, she was filled with a warm sense of panic.

Louise greatly feared talking to people her age. Especially boys.

But now Ralph looked at her with such a kind expression, blue eyes aglow with amicable charm, as his hands gently wrapped the torn shirt around her injured leg. He knelt beside her, carefully thumbing the material of the shirt. Louise brought her gaze to him, suddenly aware of the fast pace her heart had taken to.

"Yeah." Her voice came as a low whisper - barely audible, but there still. Ralph nodded at her reply and smiled, tightening the cloth around her leg.

"I played rugby back at school," he began, eyebrows furrowed as he worked upon her wound. Louise couldn't help but let a small smile slide - after all, he looked rather adorable with such a stern expression. Almost comical.

Parting her lips slightly, Louise leaned back on the palm tree she was seated on and quietly said, "Yeah?"

Satisfied at holding her interest, Ralph grinned and continued.

"I was the fullback, you know, and once this big old bloke tackled me pretty bad." His brow crinkled as he said this, and with a slight smile, Louise watched the blonde in content. His golden fringe fell over his forehead in soft waves, and his eyes were hard in concentration. At the memory of his injury, he had begun to shake his head, and now the edges of his mouth curled into a resentful smile. "Bloody awful. Broke my nose. Blood everywhere. I had to wear a bandage for two weeks."

At this, Louise giggled, not because the _thought_ of Ralph with a bandage plastered over his nose was funny, but because the actual _memory _of it was hilarious. She remembered when one Monday, the blonde walked into Latin class with his nose all bandaged up, shoulders hunched and eyes sad like a little lost puppy.

Ralph, of course, couldn't understand why the girl was laughing, so in curiosity, he grinned and leaned towards her.

"What's so funny?"

She laughed harder at this, humored that he hadn't any idea that they both shared a common class back in England. If only he knew...

"Nothing," she said quickly, smiling at the boy with absent-minded affection.

He returned the soft gesture by tenderly touching the flared skin of her leg, engulfed by the joy at making the shy girl smile. His touch soothed her scratched flesh, yet at the same time, left her skin burning with such an unusual sensation, she almost thought his fingertips were aligned with fire. At the feeling, her lips parted, and she forcibly suppressed a gasp that itched in the back of her throat. Ralph's fingertips grazed her scraped skin, sending delicate little shivers through her body. She stared into his dark gaze, determined to learn the secret of his fiery touch, but when only cobalt eyes stared back, she drew away, flushed and humiliated by her obvious reaction.

Ralph, too, seemed rather flustered. His fingertips left her skin, and almost mechanically, he was clearing his throat and purposefully fixed his eyes in the opposite direction. There was a strangled moment of silence between them, brandishing the newfound friendship with strenuous tension. Louise was red in the face, and Ralph looked more than ashamed, as if touching her had been a grave mistake. Louise sadly empathized with him; the feeling had been raw and slightly vicious, but at the same time, wonderfully delightful. Her skin still stung from where the blonde touched it, and with furrowed eyebrows, she chewed on her lip and abruptly arose.

"I'm going to go find Piggy," She said rather vaguely, choking on her words as she spoke. Ralph nodded dumbly and met her gaze with hard, blue eyes.

"Of course."

She felt the sudden need to add that he should treat the littluns better, and honestly, his fire was a completely stupid idea, and that whatever 'facade' he was trying to build with her was phony and absurd and...and...and...

Louise cringed when she realized that, perhaps, she hadn't minded Ralph's company as much as she thought she would've. After all, he fixed her wounds up quite well, and it had been nice to listen to his steady voice as he spoke, friendly and warm.

But that _feeling_. And what had he been _thinking_ in _touching_ her like that? A simple finger upon her leg had lit her skin on _fire_ - hungrier than the flame the boys foolishly ignited with Piggy's specs earlier. No boy had ever laid a _hand_ on her leg before, let alone _seen_ the bare skin of her calf. It was forbidden back at home, that's why boys and girls were so strictly segregated. It wasn't right...

Her eyes burned down at Ralph's mop of blonde hair, his fair skin that was slightly brown from the sun, the hands that had so tenderly bandaged her leg...

In ruffled haste, Louise turned away and hurried down the length of the beach - away from Ralph, away from the two littluns who kept throwing sand at each other. Despite Ralph's meager mending, her leg still quaked with pain from her ragged laceration. And her head...

God, it hurt.

Louise had a mind to go see Gracie again, but then again, her decaying body hadn't been a very _calming_ sight, exactly, and she doubted it would help her now. If only she wasn't so shy, then she'd tell that Ralph what she really thought of him. The idea brought a smirk to face. He had been so rude at the assembly, but then with Louise, he was...

Kind? No..._friendly_?

Louise was abashed that maybe, just _maybe_, he wasn't as bad as she initially assumed.

Maybe.

* * *

**A/N**: Phew. That only took me forever to write. AND MY GOODNESS T'IS LONG. If you go through that, then KUDOS HERE'S A COOKIE :D Because that was LONG. And I mean LONG. Wow. I have concision issues. BTDUBS - real action begins in the next chapter. Not anything M...yet... ;D

Oh, and...

MERRY CHRISTMAS ;D And if you don't celebrate Christmas, then HAPPY HOLIDAYS :D I got Stephen King's, _The Long Walk_, for Christmas, and I started reading it today. OHMYGOSH THAT BOOK IS MY LIFE. I highly recommend it._Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children _is next. God that book looks creepy. I just can't wait. Can't wait.

Hey...wanna leave a review? Please? Kay? Kay :D.

* * *

**Bonus Content :**

**Peppy Voice-over**: HEY KIDS, IF YOU COULD BE ANYTHING, WHAT WOULD YOU BE?

**Ralph**: I'd be a football player, because I love playing sports!

**Jack**: I'd be an Abercrombie model, because I'm sexy!

**Piggy**: I'd be a professor, because I love spreading my knowledge!

**Sam**: I'd be Eric!

**Eric**: I'd be Sam!

**Bill**: I'd be someone memorable, like Roger.

**Roger**: I'd be invisible, so I could kill things without anyone knowing.

**Maurice**: I'D BE A CONDOM.

**ENDE ;D**


	3. Differences

**Do you guys know how awesome you are? Well you're all awesome. All of you. Thank you so much for your feedback. I am so happy that Louise isn't a Mary-Sue. So incredibly freaking happy...you don't even know.**

**Soundtrack**: **Uninvited - Alanis Morsiette **

**Disclaimer:** I am not yet William Golding. I do not yet own LotF. Maybe one day I will be.

**Note**: Nada.

**Warnings (:D): **(nothing too bad so don't get your knickers in a knot...still rated T...for now muahahahah) Creepy Roger, non-con kissing - Does that exist? Well it does here. Also, this chapter is extremely long. :D

* * *

**Differences**

**"Like any uncharted territory, I must seem greatly intriguing. You speak of my love like you have experienced love like mine before. But this is not allowed, you're uninvited, an unfortunate slight."**

Roger gazed out into the pink morning sky and frowned, eyes like two grey shimmering jewels in the sweet light of dawn. His dark hair, feathered with sand and stiff with seawater, fell coarse and wavy against the pale skin of his forehead. A bird twittered briefly from behind his shoulder, and a smile twitched upon the dark boy's lips. It wasn't that he found any of it beautiful; he rarely found _anything_ beautiful. It was just deeply satiating - the way soft sand felt beneath his bare toes, a warm breeze threading through raven locks, the sound of waves crashing against a weakened shore - Everything about the island heightened emotions Roger thought he had long ago discarded of.

While everyone else slept, Roger was awake, blinded by glowing stars and a half-shadowed moon. But now, the sun finished playing hide-and-seek behind the night, and the blanket of darkness had been lifted. Darkness was like a mask to Roger, like the warm, tender arms of parents he never knew.

A breeze rustled his already tattered shirt. He had already disposed of that dreaded tie. It was always uncomfortably tight around his neck - a feeling that no boy was particularly fond of. Roger appraised this with slight apprehension; it was strange what a toll the island's sun could take on a person. Especially a person like Roger - dark, reclusive, batty Roger, as the boys at school liked to say.

Someone groaned in their sleep, and the dark haired boy instinctively looked over, amused at what he saw. The noise belonged to that...that..._girl_, the one who Jack continuously made crude jokes about.

_Ah yes_. Roger stared down upon her sleeping figure, watching as she unconsciously stretched her wounded leg. _The only girl. Poor little bitch_.

The boy stared for a while, trying his hardest to recall her name, but his mind was suddenly absorbed in the dark brown of her hair and delicate curves of her form. _The only girl_...Roger remembered a conversation with Jack from yesterday, a conversation that, strangely enough, originated from the subject of the fire. Jack was laughing about how the poor girl could hardly make it down the hill without stumbling over her own feet, and Roger had laughed along, only to please his leader. Jack had then stared at Roger for a moment, his icy blues eyes intent and dark, and with a sly smile, the redhead had spoke almost unforgettable words:

_"She doesn't speak, that girl. She's a silent siren." _Jack had then grinned - unforgiving and full of purpose- "_She's just like you_."

Roger heard the first of the boys wake, and with a curiously intrigued expression, he watched as the girl turned over again in her sleep.

"Just like me," he murmured, somehow convinced nobody could truly be just like him. Not really.

* * *

Louise wandered idly down the length of the beach, smiling slightly when the cool waves from the ocean kissed the tips of her sunburned feet. She felt better now, relaxed even, and the mutilated image of Gracie was reduced to only a nagging thought in the back of her mind. Her leg felt tremendously better, but her skin still burned with that strange sensation from Ralph's 'innocent' touch.

_What was that_?

Louise wasn't quite sure _what_ had happened between her and Ralph that past evening. It was odd, and ever since, she hadn't been able to shake the distant feeling of his fingers upon her skin, tenderly mending and fixing her torn flesh. She could hardly see why Ralph would ignite such emotions within her anyway. It wasn't as if she _liked_ him or anything. Louise snorted at the thought. She wasn't like those _other_ girls back in England, the ones who left him cute little notes on his desk and cheered him on at every rugby match. Hell, Gracie used to even say that he could fill up half a stadium with his fangirls, all desperate to glimpse at Ralph Adler, _the_ fullback on the rugby team, _the _most popular boy in grade nine.

Louise smiled grimly and stared out at the frothy white waves in stern confusion. Adler, Adler, Ralph _Adler - _what was _wrong_ with her? She shook her head furiously and chewed on her lip, determined to expel whatever feelings Ralph had left her with.

_Damn him! Damn him, damn him, __**damn him**_**-**

But Louise was interrupted. She realized how far she had strayed from the group, how easy it would be for her to drown in the ocean's deathly depths and how no one would ever hear her screams. Louise glanced over her shoulder and squinted. She was able to see the faint images of people stirring along the original clearing, Ralph and Piggy amongst them.

_They're so far away..._

And she was on the complete other side of the island, torn away by her absorption in Ralph and _every fucking thing_ he did and-

There was an abrupt noise from the forest, not too far away from where Louise stood, feet burned by the blistering heat of the sand, eyes narrowed in evident concern. The noise sounded again.

_A rustling_, she decided, then realized in sudden horror that something was _in_ those shrubs, watching her, listening to her, _stalking her_-

Despite her innate fear, Louise went against her instincts and drew close to the trim of the forest. Her movements were slow and tense, no haste within them, and before long, she was standing right at the bushes, watching them as if a tiger was going to emerge.

_That's what you'd deserve_. _A tiger gnawing off your face, you dimwit._

But no tiger came. Surprisingly, _nothing_ came - not a pig, nor a bear, nor a _monster_...

But then she heard it. _Breathing_. Hungry and suddenly very loud _breaths_, and they didn't belong to her. Louise took a step backwards and tilted her head at the sight. It didn't sound like an animal's breaths, but more like a...a...a...

Wordlessly, Louise turned on her heel and sprinted away.

_A human_.

Some_one_ had been watching her, staring in disguise as she made her way along the yellow beach. They could've followed her, and - oh _god_, what if it was that damned Jack? What if he saw her smiling mindlessly like some idiotic fool, as if she was _mad_ -

Louise disregarded her thoughts the minute she heard a pair of footsteps behind her.

_Oh my god_, she thought with dreary confusion, _They're following me now_!

She went to turn in the forest, maybe throw her pursuer off, but her feet were stiff and sloppy in the thick sand, and it was difficult to run at a steady pace. Louise wasn't athletic even back at home, and before long, she was terribly winded. Her panicked frenzy slowed, too short of the safe clearing. In a strange mixture of exhaustion and despair, the girl collapsed upon her knees, willing herself to get up and continue running. She didn't, and her pursuer caught up rather quickly. Unlike Louise, he showed some range of athletic ability. In one swift motion, her pursuer had kicked her flat on her stomach and flipped on her back so that she could meet his cruel gaze. Quite honestly, she wasn't surprised at the dark grey eyes that stared back at her.

"Hello," Roger said, straddling her hips. His dark hair was rustled and messy, disheveled from the thrill of the pursuit, and his lips were set in a mild smirk. If it had been any other _normal_ circumstance, Louise may have even found the boy to be handsome. But _here_, with his weight crushing her torso, she saw anything but good intentions in his dark gaze. Louise opened her mouth to speak, but found no words. Her vocal ability had involuntarily frozen, rendering her speech useless, just as it always did when she was scared or nervous.

_Damn it, no!_

Louise could only stare back the boy and hope that her glare looked somewhat threatening.

Roger could tell the girl was trying her hardest to appeal as hostile, but he knew she was anything but. From the way her limbs fell stiff and tense under his cold grasp told him everything he needed to know. She was _scared_, nervous, probably panicked - Shy little girls like Louise could _never_ handle themselves, and that was a fact. He remembered Jack saying something about it earlier on, but never mind him - Roger was going to figure out this little bitch for himself.

He stared down at the girl, head tilted slightly, as if she was the strangest thing he had ever seen. And perhaps she was, with her lips parted and her blue eyes wide, almost like some kind of frightened _animal_. The thought made Roger smirk, and languorously, he was pressing himself closer to her thin frame, leaning down until she could feel his breath hot on her neck.

"You're a long way from the clearing, aren't you, girly?" Roger spoke in a predatory whisper, his breath falling upon the unscathed skin of her neck. Louise shuddered and tried to turn her head, but the raven haired boy had her locked in his grasp.

"That's a bit dangerous, don't you think?" Roger continued, almost lazily, as if holding the startled girl beneath him was a languid pleasure. He enjoyed watching - _feeling_ - her quake with fear. It excited him to no ends.

When Louise remained silent, Roger laughed quietly and sat up, forcing her gaze upon his. His grey eyes were dark and gleamed with an emotion Louise couldn't quite name. She noticed a few of the other choir boys who would look at her with similar expressions around camp, but never were they as _intense_ as Roger's stare. Suddenly, Roger released his hold on her left arm and went to grab something from his pocket. In an animal-like frenzy, the girl's arm convulsed and jerked, intent on somehow breaking free from her captor. But Roger just smiled, calmly unveiled the object, and dangled it carelessly over her throat.

It was a knife. A glittering, lethal knife.

Louise's arm stopped instantly. She was thrown into a catatonic state of fear. Her body was so stiff in apprehension that Roger laughed and withdrew the knife from her throat.

"Strange, isn't it? You walk all the way out here, perilously away from the others, and you never suspected that you would be _hunted_." Roger caught her gasp and grinned, his eyes fixed upon the glimmering the thing in his hand. "And to think that no matter what happens, nobody would hear you scream."

Roger's grey eyes found the pale blue sky, and a relaxed sigh escaped him. This was fun. Better than any rugby game or choir practice or _anything_. Roger had never felt such _control_, such volatile _power_, and it feel _good_. Pleasurable, even.

When he brought his gaze back towards the quivering girl, he saw that she was now shaking her head desperately, almost as if she was having a spasm. He laughed again, narrowed his eyes at the knife, and leaned back towards the girl.

"You're not scared, are you?" He asked, his lips brushing the soft flesh of her ear.

A sob escaped her now, a sob that deemed her weak in Roger's mind. He chuckled against her skin and adjusted himself so that his hips were pressed harshly into hers. Louise blinked through more tears at this transaction, pained by the feeling of his hips brutally ground against hers. It felt _wrong_ when he moaned, wrong when his hands tightened around her narrow wrists, wrong when he dipped his head into her shoulder and clutched that glinting knife.

Somehow, god forbid, Louise found the strength to speak.

"Pl...please...don't," she breathed, her voice shaken and hoarse. Roger fell still at the sound of her quiet voice, enthralled by the sheer sense of frailty she emitted. With a small smile, he bent his head towards her so that their foreheads touched. He could feel her panicked, short breaths against his own, all the while egging on the pulsating feeling buried deep within him. It felt _good_ abusing her like this. _Good_.

Roger grinned, eyes wide and stormy.

"What's your name again?" He drawled, his voice thick with sudden desire. She felt so _right_, so _good_ beneath him. His lips curled as he brought the tip of the knife to her small mouth. "Louisa?"

Louise answered him despite the irrational fear that was welling up within her.

"Louise," she whispered, watching in horror as he moved the knife to her cheek. He wouldn't _hurt_ her, would he? Not like that.

Roger smirked and pressed the tip of the knife into her warm flesh, watching as crimson blood trickled out. She shrieked in quiet terror, eliciting another groan from the boy - a groan lathered in lust and sadistic need.

With his eyes tracked upon the drizzling blood, Roger nodded and spoke against Louise's ear. "Louise...that's right. I had forgotten. You don't say much, do you, _Louise_?"

Roger briefly contemplated on digging the knife into her soft skin again, just to feel her shudder beneath him, elating the sense of _power_ in his mind. But he restrained his urge and focused his attention to the aching feeling in his groin - after all, one bloodied mark upon her cheek would raise enough suspicion from that blasted, dimwit Ralph, and Roger preferred to keep off his radar if possible.

Louise stared in stiffened dread as Roger smiled once more, folding the knife behind his back. He touched their noses together and she tried to turn her head, forcing an annoyed grunt from the boy above her. Suddenly, his eyes were shadowed with dark curiosity, and to her horrified dismay, she felt his hands return to her arms in an almost predatory movement.

"Jack said that you're just like me." Roger's eyes appeared to be glazed over for a moment, as if his mind was in an utterly different place. When his gaze was reacquainted with hers, his trance was lost, and he was dark with menacing intent once more. He hovered above her, licked his lips, and brought his mouth towards the trail of blood down her cheek.

"But I don't think that's possible," He said softly, breathing onto her skin. Before Louise could even scream, she felt something warm and wet glide across her cheek. It took her a moment to realize that Roger was _licking_ her - no, _licking_ her blood. She squeaked in fear and the boy lazily lifted his head, studying her in interested intrigue. He was smiling again - that _fucking scary smile_ - and then abruptly, Roger brought his lips to hers.

At first it was only a featherlight touch - almost sweet...nice even. Louise nearly forgot how much Roger frightened her, but then, on cue, he was crushing his warm lips against hers, violently and with haste. When she only stilled in response to his action, Roger grunted again and forcefully took her bottom lip between his own, melding their mouths in the most vulgar way Louise thought possible. Louise never had kissed a boy before, let alone really interacted with many boys, and this wasn't an ideal first kiss. She hardly knew the boy, and his kiss _hurt_ her. It was a violation of her space. She wasn't sure if all kisses were like that - rough and forced - but nonetheless, she fell limp beneath her captor and allowed him to ravage her mouth.

It all happened so fast. At first it was innocent, and then terribly vindictive as the boy slipped his tongue inside his reluctant partner's mouth. She could still taste the blood that lingered upon him - _her _blood. It was metallically foul, and Louise had to mentally berate herself before she fully recognized what he was doing. His tongue slid against her teeth before moving against her own diffident muscle - a poor effort at arousing a reaction from the girl. The foreign feeling startled her and forced her to squirm beneath him, disgusted and stunned at the boy's instinctive impulses. Her thigh brushed up against _him_, and soon the silence was devoured by Roger's groans and Louise's soft sobs.

Louise was sure that her cruel torture would never end, but then, like the fingers of dawn upon the swarthy night, someone was there. There to help _her_.

"Roger?"

Roger removed himself from Louise as quickly as he had came, snarling at the intruder with animalistic anger. Louise could hardly understand why, for the boy that stood before them both was none other than little Johnny, one of the first children she had the pleasure of meeting upon the island. The poor child looked terribly confused, and was that _disgust_ leering in his stare? Louise wasn't sure, and quite honestly, she could care less. Nothing compared to the wonderful caress of relief upon her worn heart. The absence of Roger's body eased her thoughts, but still, her body shook in the tremor of it all.

Johnny frowned and stepped away, eyes wild in fright.

"Wh...what's...are you...is she...?"

"Nothing," Roger hissed, moving off of Louise as if she repulsed him. "It's nothing."

Johnny caught a glimpse of Roger's knife and quirked an eyebrow.

"Is that Jack's knife?"

"I borrowed it." Roger thrust the knife back in his pocket, eyes dark in menace.

"And if you tell anybody about what you just saw, I'll borrow it again to slit your throat. You understand?"

Johnny didn't need anything else to convince him of Roger's threat; in a split second, he was on his feet again, sprinting down the beach in childish fear. Roger grinned and went to look back at Louise, but the girl had followed Johnny closely and was now nearly back at the clearing. Roger passed his tongue over his lips, relishing in the taste of the girl that they still held.

Somehow, he knew she wouldn't tell anybody. Perhaps she'd feel too ashamed to say anything, or maybe fear would get the best of her. Nonetheless, no matter what caused the girl to hold her silence, it left Roger it a comfortable position. He enjoyed that. He _liked_ having such control over another human being - practically obliterating the girl's self dignity and installing pure fear. _Fear_. It's what Roger thrived on. He loved it. It was the core of his very existence.

The black haired boy watched with narrowed eyes as Louise made it back to the clearing. A smile flickered upon his face, and for once, it wasn't forced. His heart was flooded with callous contentment, an emotion Roger was growing to love.

"Like I thought," Roger murmured softly, watching as Louise collapsed next to Piggy. _That'll drive that Ralph mad, that's for sure_. He clicked his tongue in exasperation and turned on his heel. "...she's not like me, after all."

Truth be told, nobody was quite like Roger.

* * *

**A/N**: Woo for Roger chapter. Another long one. (sorry don't hate me I know it's uber long I'm so sorry HAPPY NEW YEAR). That was a pretty creepy chapter, but it's Roger, and we love him. Also - if you're in need of something to do with your free time, watch the Helena Beat music video by Foster the People on YouTube. It's based off of LotF :D

HEY - got an Instagram? FOLLOW ME:D chloeeannabelle . Yep. DO ITTT.

It took a really long time to write this chapter, so it would be GREATLY appreciated if I could catch your thoughts on it :) Critique, requests, things you liked, things you didn't...etc. Just leave it in a review! Woo! :D


	4. The Most Dangerous of Things

**Hello lovelies! Thank you for all your awesome reviews! You have no idea how much I appreciate them! They're seriously the the very thing that encourages me to update this. I will take in all of your comments/suggestions/everything when I write, and it helps a bunch! Thank you!**

**Soundtrack: Come Away to the Water - Maroon 5.**

**Disclaimer: **Strangely enough, I'm still not quite William Golding, and therefore, I own nothing.

**Note: **In this chapter Roger talks (intrapersonally, that is) about jealousy. I feel that it is kind of one of his traits to be a jealous natured person, but in this chapter, he claims that he's never been envious of anything before. This is, simply, because I feel that pre-island, he had very little to be envious of. But as things develop between Ralph/Louise, his envy will grow, all adding up to that delicious little bundle of sadistic tendencies :D

**Warnings: **Nothing much, my fellow readers, which is sad to say. I do quite enjoy the warnings :D I guess, language, mild violence (as a forewarning - in later chapters, I plan to have some gore. So just keep that in mind). Again, I apologize for the absurd length. (i really suck at concision...damn me.)

**Enjoy ~**

* * *

**The Most Dangerous of Things**

"**Come away little lass, come away to the water. Away from the light that you always knew. We are calling to you."**

The choirboys snickered as Louise came stomping into camp, eyes ablaze with evident fury. Her cheeks were stained with the incriminating smudge of smeared blood and bitter tears, some of which still lingered at her stinging eyes. Her mouth felt vile and dirty, like some soiled linen that had been carelessly used and disposed of. Roger's taste strayed upon her tongue, and in appalled disgust, she spat on the ground - a weak attempt at dispelling his flavor. It was a nagging reminder of what he had done, what Louise had _let_ him do. Roger _violated_ her, _threatened _her, reduced her dignity to that of a cowardly soldier, and she had _let_ him with hardly any struggle to show for it.

Staring around the barren camp, Louise searched for Piggy. _If_ she gathered up the courage to speak of her..._experience_ with Roger, the only person she could even _fathom_ of telling would be Piggy. At least he'd understand, and hopefully, he'd know what to do. The brief idea of telling Ralph faded across Louise's mind, and for a moment, she was induced by it. After all, the thought of Ralph beating Roger ruthlessly into a bloody pulp soothed her flared nerves.

But _no_ - How could she possibly tell _him_? Perfect, prized, never-skip-out-on-Church, _Ralph_? He would surely shun her, admonish her for letting Roger do such vulgar things. It was an embarrassment to say that her first kiss had been stolen, a kiss that she was saving for a man who would politely court her and hopefully wed her. That kind of kiss would be accepted by society, but Roger's filthy thievery...

Louise was ashamed, not only of herself, but of the dark haired boy too.

"Louise!"

The girl turned at the mention of her name and was met by the sweaty grin of Piggy. He was with three other boys - the twins, and the other dark haired boy - the one that had fainted. Sighing, Louise choked down her abashed emotions and wandered over beside her friend.

Piggy grinned as the girl came up alongside him.

"How goes it?" he asked, but his gaze was fixed on the bundle of fallen palm leaves the twins were lugging forward. Louise watched their strenuous struggle in pitiful amusement.

"What're you doing?" she asked. The twins glanced up at the sound of her voice, as if they were shocked to hear her speak. Louise had to suppress a glare at their pathetically stunned expressions.

_That's right. Louise Darmer __**does **__have a voice, you ignorant dimwits._

Piggy adjusted his specs and sighed. "We're trying to help Ralph build shelters. Bill and Maurice helped for a while, but I suppose they got bored and now they've run off." Piggy threw an offhand glance to the two choirboys that had originally sniggered at Louise. She stared at them in humiliated regret.

_Bill and Maurice_.

Piggy coughed and warily returned his thoughts to Louise.

"As you can see," he continued, his voice hoarse from heat and exhaustion. "...they were the brawn in this little project. Samneric can't do much, and Simon gets lightheaded."

Louise frowned and crossed her arms over her chest, ignoring the bruises that had begun to form along her wrists.

"What about you?" she asked, her tone innocent from malicious intent. Piggy smiled and patted his stomach in quiet pride, though from the way his eyes burned bright against the sheer glass of his specs, Louise could tell that his reasoning went far beyond his weight.

"I have asthma," he answered notably - almost with a touch of pride. It forced a smile upon Louise's sun flushed face.

One of the twins groaned, but Piggy dismissed it with an impatient whistle.

"Gah - you two, c'mon - go get Bill and Maurice and tell them that if they don't help, I'll tell Ralph. _Then_ they'll be in a right amount of trouble, and -" Just then, Piggy glimpsed at a smudge of dried blood trailing down Louise's feverish face. There was a small indent in her skin, almost like a cut, and at a longer look, he could see purpling bruises blossoming along the length of her arms.

Angrily, Piggy turned away from the twins and nudged Louise's elbow, burning with sympathy when she yelped. Louise noticed his pitying stare of concern and instantly brought her fingertips to her lips - the lips that had been so abused just moments ago.

Piggy expelled his growing anxiety through a sigh, and with a disquieted heart, he looked upon the girl and shook his head.

"What _happened_ to you?"

Excuses flooded through Louise's mind, all ready and poised to be fired at Piggy. _I tripped picking berries in the forest...I went for a swim and was slammed up against the rocks by the waves...I was attacked and marred by a beast, a snarling, grueling beast._

The latter wasn't entirely a lie, except her beast had been somewhat attractive and sly in his notions. Louise mindlessly shook her head and teetered on the edge of truth and fabrication.

"I...I stu-stumbled, and I...I...fe-fell..."

Piggy had taken off his glasses with one sunburned hand, and with a puckered brow, he faced the girl and narrowed his eyes. "You fell? Where? Why were you alone?"

When she didn't answer, the boy gave a disapproving scowl and looked down at

his specs.

"You should never travel around the island alone," Piggy said, cleaning the lens of his specs with the corner of his ragged blazer. "There's animals, and by animals, I'm not only referring to those ridiculously incompetent choir boys."

The pair threw offhand glances at Maurice and Bill, both of whom were close to Jack in height and size. They were dawdling about, blatantly singing over the pleas of Samneric, who were practically begging for help. Simon stood a little ways back, observing the scene in serene interest. When Piggy passed his gaze back to Louise, his eyes were dark in scrutiny, as if he could see through the very cracks of her weak lie.

"Why do I have a sickening feeling that you're lying to me?"

Piggy, sadly, seemed to have a very good intuition. Louise eyed her bruising skin and gulped, cheeks burning with blush at the boy's interrogation.

"I was walking along the beach alone, and...and...one of the boys was running from the forest, and he bumped into me. Simple as that."

"Louise-"

"I'm not lying." Her voice had dropped an octave, and now her dark blue eyes were bright in solemnity. "I'm telling you the truth."

Piggy stared in certain sympathy, eyes swirling with the unmistakable sorrow of pity. A dark emotion flared beneath Louise; he had no right to pity her! She was old enough to look out for herself. Sometimes bad things happen to everyone, or at least she assumed. Piggy, however, was determined on gnawing the truth from her reluctant spirit.

"Which boy?"

She noticed that he was glaring around skeptically, taking a mental notice of each and every boy that wandered about the clearing. Louise followed Piggy's gaze towards Maurice and Bill, then to the twins, and finally over to a few littluns that lay sprawled out in the sand. Jack and his hunters were either on fire duty or were planning a raid; neither the girl nor Piggy knew exactly which. Besides the occasional yelp from a littlun, the island was practically bare of sound.

Befuddled, Piggy looked back at his friend. "Louise, please - this is important. Your safety is-"

"I know," Louise mumbled, scoffing her heel in the dry sand. "But it honestly doesn't matter, _honestly_-"

"Louise." Piggy looked upon her like a frustrated parent to a child, with dwindling patience and concern. Louise swallowed, passed a hand through her matted hair, and sighed.

"I think his name is Roger."

She couldn't believe she'd actually said it. Roger would surely punish her for dobbing him in, but somehow, she trusted Piggy, and she knew that no matter what Roger did, Piggy would have her back. A slim beam of light now shone on her dampened spirit, and as Piggy drew a deep breath, she felt encouraged to tell him more. To tell him the truth. To make sure that Roger never hurt her again.

"He just ran into you?" Piggy questioned doubtfully, catching the sunshine with his specs.

Louise slowly shook her head. Piggy grimly sat down and beckoned the girl to follow. "What happened?"

"I was walking," she began, suddenly unsure of herself. Perhaps telling on Roger hadn't been the wisest thing after all. "And...and he attacked me, and then he...he..."

"He what, Louise? What did he do?"

"He...he did this." She touched the small cut on her face and frowned. "And he...he..."

"He...?"

"Kissed me." The words were dull and sour on her tongue, and shame washed through her.

Piggy stared in surprised commiseration. "_Kissed_ you?" His cheeks flushed red, and all his compassion churned to anger - not at the girl, but at Roger. Louise had been the only one who had even made an effort to be friends with Piggy, and to hear that awful boys like _Roger _were _violating_ her...it made him furious. Without another word, Piggy stood up, followed shortly by Louise. She was terrified he'd do something stupid, like confront Roger or tell Jack. That would earn them both a good beating.

Piggy started to walk towards the skeletons of the shelters, and Louise strolled alongside him, desperate to thwart whatever plan he had cultivated.

"Piggy," she murmured, stepping in front of him. He simply walked around her. "Piggy!"

"What?" He asked from over his shoulder, clenching his fists at her efforts. Why would she want to put _up_ with Roger?

Louise looked her friend in the eye and sighed. "Listen, you _can't_ just go _up_ to Roger or Jack and _scold_ them! They'll laugh at you and _hurt_ you...I think Roger _likes_ hurting people...I don't think he'd mind-"

"I'm not going to Roger _or_ Jack." Piggy paused, licked his lips, and remained firm. "I'm going to tell _Ralph_ and let him deal with them."

"Piggy-"

"This shouldn't be neglected, Lou. Ralph will put him - _them_ in line."

Before Louise could object, the boy had stomped off into the blanket of green, leaving the girl alone and utterly distressed. She had seen the glint in Roger's eyes, a glare that told her he wouldn't leave her alone. Piggy could try, Ralph could try..._anyone_ could try, but Louise suddenly doubted the strength of their power. There were limitations, after all. Pitfalls that everyone was vulnerable to, and no matter how much she attempted to forget, she couldn't shake away the taste of Roger. It disgusted her, _appalled_ her, and...enlightened her.

Louise was strangely intrigued by the dark boy with the grey eyes.

* * *

"I won't have it."

Ralph was fuming. The prettiness about his face had been lost and was now betrayed a terrible grimace of anger. The blonde was furious, but whether it was at Jack or Roger, Louise was unsure. He seemed to be equally as irritated at the both of them.

"What in the _bloody hell_ were you _thinking_, attacking her like that?"

Compared to the reddening chief, Roger was like a pale slab of marble, carved and chiseled into a passive glare. With his arms crossed, he wavered between a slight smile and a smirk, purposely patronizing his leader. He refused to meet the girl's look of despair, and with the bravado of a thousand knights, he glanced at the fair haired boy and shrugged.

"I didn't attack her. She told Piggy herself that we ran into each other."

"She didn't mean it," Piggy muttered, flushed and sweaty from his pursuit. "She was just scared...scared of _you_!"

Roger laughed at this, almost as if he was pleased by the boy's sentiments. Louise winced and recoiled back behind Ralph, embarrassed and frightened all at once. Piggy's words seemed to fuel Roger's sadistic content, and with a dismissive wave, the boy stepped forward and shook his head.

"I'm sorry she was afraid," Roger said, eyes flickering to Louise in eager thirst. "But I think this is all a miscommunication."

"Roger's right." Jack moved towards his companion, icy glare fixed upon Ralph. "What proof do you have?"

Ralph groaned in agitation and pulled Louise forward before roughly gesturing to the incision on her cheek.

"This!" His hand strayed from her cheek to her arms, marring her skin with his fiery touch. Although this time, it held none of the same attributes as the last. She felt his desperate exasperation through the light glide of his fingertips - a fire so bright, it left her quivering beneath his grasp. And she hated herself for it.

Roger looked upon her wounds with a predator's admiration, and with a soft sigh, he fell back behind Jack, submitting to the redhead's control.

"Roger hasn't done anything." Jack's gaze lingered on Louise, and after a moment, a smile curved around the corner of his crumpled face. "If anything, I'll bet _she_ found _him_."

"_What_?"

The word rippled between Ralph and Louise, falling upon the tired night like a dull thrum. The blonde stared at Jack, then at Roger, who was watching in dark interest. The entire ordeal fascinated him - after all, it was humorous to think that one little kiss had instigated such a tempered dispute between the group. Already the precious Chief's facade was proving to fail.

Jack smirked. "Girls are temptresses. You know how they go, or you should, I suppose. Being on the rugby team and all - they _love_ you, don't they?"

Ralph's jaw was slack, his hand frozen stiff in midair. There was a redness about the boy's face that defined his frustration, yet he made no attempt to counter Jack's claims. What could he say? The boy glanced at Louise helplessly, and with a relinquished sigh, he passed a glare over Jack.

"I won't tolerate anymore from him." Ralph's dark gaze fell on Roger, and in an instant, they shadowed in instinctive rage. He looked back at Jack and nodded. "You keep a shorter leash on your hunters, you hear?"

"With all due respect, Chief, my _hunters_ have done nothing wrong. Maybe _you_ should keep your _pet_ on a shorter leash."

Roger sniggered from beside his friend, staring at the trio in pathetic humor. Piggy clenched his fists as if to strike out, but was restricted by a sudden wheezing that bubbled up in his chest. He was thrown into a coughing fit, promptly arousing another spurt of laughter from the two hunters. Ralph glared, and the newfound friendship with Jack quickly disintegrated.

"I mean it Jack." Ralph spoke through gritted teeth now, blue eyes ablaze in the ferocity of his new rivalry.

Jack stared at the boy with dwindling interest.

"Right." He apathetically turned away, hips swaying in rhythm against the wind. "I bet you do."

Ralph lunged out, muscles strained with days' work of hard labor and inadequate food, but Jack had already disappeared into the tendrils of greenery, his black haired companion only a few footfalls behind. The hunters had gone, and now only the trio remained. Piggy slumped against the twining form of a palm tree, breaths coming in short, desperate gurgles. Ralph drew back, eyes wild in animosity, and with a disgruntled groan, he moved towards Louise.

"Why did you do that?"

For the slightest second, she thought he was referring to the incident with Roger, as if he agreed with Jack. A retort came sour upon her tongue, but when she caught the slowly softening glint in Ralph's eyes, she knew he meant something different.

"Why didn't you stand up for yourself?"

His words pierced through her, branding her flesh far more than any knife or bruise. Louise shyly rubbed her elbow with her hand and leaned next to Piggy, overwhelmed by Ralph's confused fury.

"I dunno," she muttered, glancing warily at the ground. "He was angry."

"He accused you of being a-"

"I _know_." It was the first time she had ever snapped at Ralph, and the blonde was certainly displaced by her sudden ferocity. She grunted at his impudence and flounced away, ignoring the dimming light of the sun as night dawned upon the young teenagers.

Ralph followed.

"Why did you let him bully you?" He pestered, pushing in beside the girl.

"I didn't!"

"You did! You let me talk for you-"

"You did a bloody nice job of botching that up, didn't you?"

Ralph stopped, lips parted in stunned dubiety. Louise trekked forward, utterly unfazed by the blonde's obvious disarray. After all, what kind of mongrel was he, asking such impertinent questions as _that_? He deserved what he got, even if deep inside, Louise knew he didn't.

"Botched it up?" Ralph's voice was dry; dry and soft.

_His feelings are hurt_.

In that moment, Louise felt every bit as cruel as Roger, knifing the one thing that Ralph was thought to be good at; helping others.

Instead of admitting her faults, she spun around to face him and pursued his achilles heel.

"Yeah," Louise said, nodding solemnly. "They obviously didn't care about what you had to say."

"Maybe that's because I'm not the one Roger attacked and molested."

"He did _not_ molest me-"

"But he _hurt _you-"

"What's your point?" The girl was bitterly angry now, fractious by Ralph's stupid blue eyes and stupid blonde hair and stupid sad frown...

Ralph sighed, eyes ablaze in vociferous curiosity. She puzzled him, muddled him, almost as if she was an object to be inquired.

Ralph flopped down on the sandy ground and lolled his head back, exhausted by the day's events. With furrowed brows, he glanced at Louise and drew a wary breath.

"You shouldn't let Jack treat you that way," he murmured, gazing out at the pale pink sky. The sun was setting, and in its place, stars were glittering amongst a faded horizon.

Louise sunk down beside the blonde and tucked her knees towards her chest, flustered and exhilarated by Ralph's presence. He was so close, only a breath away, and the thought was riveting.

"You don't understand what it's like to be a girl," Louise finally whispered, gently fingering the cut on her cheek. Ralph eyed her wounds with unsatisfied disgust.

"He hurt you."

Ralph's words stung at Louise, mercilessly biting and gnawing away at whatever dignity she managed to retain. Flushed, she turned to the blonde, absorbed in the way his fair fringe fell in waves upon his forehead. She remembered his touch, his burn, the invisible scars that now encompassed her wounded leg from the soft glide of his fingertips. She wondered if Roger had felt that way when he touched her - frenzied, enflamed, _overtaken_...It was such an overwhelming feeling that Louise found herself at loss for breath.

Ralph looked so troubled, sitting there in the dim light of the stars. The glaring moon slowly climbed up towards its place in the sky, lying aimlessly amongst its glittering friends. She noted his features with certain adoration - the length of his blonde eyelashes, the crease of his eyebrows, the slant of his nose, the curve of his lips...

Her heart pounded, thrumming fervently against the threadbare fabric of her clothes. Beneath her, her emotions welled and erupted into a thousand shimmering specs of dust, scattered about her insides in careless concern. It fed into her blood, coiling and writhing until her fingers curled in something similar to euphoria...

"Ralph."

She said his name, not expecting a reply - only so that she could taste the sweet syllable upon her tongue. His eyes met hers, and the girl's heart jumped, warming the sensation within her to a quiet hum.

"Ralph."

Louise said it again - _lower_ now - and found herself reaching out for him. She needed to feel his scorching touch, his burning mark upon her skin. To graze her fingertips upon his warm flesh was sinfully delightful, and Louise was ready to selfishly indulge. Roger had stripped her of her first kiss, but that didn't mean that she couldn't enjoy the art.

With a trembling grasp, she touched her palm to Ralph's cheek, sucking in her breath when her flesh was immediately ignited in precarious flame. Fire swept through her, devouring whatever sanity she retained, and savagely, she shifted closer to the boy, eager for more. Ralph could only stare, although deep inside, something erupted within him too, something that forced his blood to rush and his head to spin.

"Ralph."

Louise spoke his name once more, this time as a labored slur. He tried to look angry..._offended_ at this gesture, but his lips were twisted and his eyes were skewed - ignoring the girl was tougher than he anticipated. Her touch possessed the same mystical features as his, and in the dark of the night, both teenagers allowed themselves to succumb to the fire within.

It was glorious, and it burned brighter than any star in the universe, so bright, that they were foolishly blinded. Louise stroked his cheek with gentle affection, and slowly, she craved _more_. She wanted his hands on her, touching her, _groping_ her, marring her like Roger's knife. Her mouth was thick in a desire she couldn't quite name, but from the way her heart fluttered each time he parted and licked his lips, she had an idea that it had to do with a kiss.

But _no_ - that was absurd. This was _Ralph_, and she wasn't some pathetic, giggling schoolgirl. She was...she was...

Louise flinched away, charred from the prickling daze of his touch. They stared at each for seemed like an eternity, both in hunger and in absurd fascination. Their subtle touches unlatched a new gateway, a bridge from innocence to corruption, the very sickly sweet bite of an apple from Eden.

Clumsily, the girl arose and stumbled back, appalled by the sense of lust that was burning beneath her thin cotton clothes. Ralph stared, innately wishing for her to stay, but nonetheless, she left, leaving the blonde to drown in his thoughts.

* * *

Down by the beach, the redhead watched as Louise fled from Ralph. His heart was blackened in a newfound emotion, one Jack Merridew was not accustomed to feeling.

He was entirely and wholly envious of Ralph Adler.

He caught the way Louise glanced back longingly at the boy, as if searching for a reason to tarry amongst the shoreline. She liked him - that was apparent. And it was driving Jack mad.

Angrily, he turned to his dark haired friend and growled. "Little whore!"

The boy who slouched beside Jack smiled; the redhead was now configuring names and swearing as richly as he knew how. Jealousy could scald the temper of people sometimes, and to Roger, it was all the more entertaining.

Roger, of course, rarely felt envy, especially not for twats like Ralph Adler. After all, he had already _touched_ the girl and _felt_ her quivering beneath him. Her taste still lingered upon his lips - a pleasure Jack had not yet experienced. It wasn't that they liked the girl. In fact, compared to most of the other females who had sadly died in the crash, Louise wasn't exactly beautiful. Anything but, really.

None of that mattered. Unlike Jack, who still clung to the very tatters of chivalry (or so he claimed...Roger had his doubts...), Roger would gladly have his way with Louise eventually, whether she liked it or not. And that satiated the dark boy.

"Roger."

Roger looked up at his fair friend, immediately pacified by his menacing glare.

"Yes?"

Jack dropped to his knees and waited for his friend to follow, eager to unleash a beast that was only just starting to roar.

"What do I do?"

Roger frowned. "About what, Merridew?"

"About what I'm _feeling_."

Roger grinned, sadistically pleased by his friend's inquiry. "You take what's yours."

* * *

**A/N**: Aaaanddd...boom. Here we go. If you want, you can leave me a review. They really mean a lot! :D I've also decided to make Bill and Maurice best friends. Just because, you know, they would be awesome best friends.

Next chapter I promise there will be real RalphxLouise action. I'm trying to take my time, you know, because I don't want it to feel rushed. Does it feel rushed? Should I slow it down? I want the tension to build...is the tension building? :D

I feel like Louise has become a little sassy...at least, inwardly sassy. If you want, you can leave me a review. They really mean a lot! :D I've also decided to make Bill and Maurice best friends. Just because, you know, they would be awesome best friends.

((if you want to hear something cool, YouTube Asleep by The Smiths, pause the video, open a new tab, google rainymood, and play them both at the same time. Best. Thing. Ever. Excuse my obsession with The Smiths - They're pretty much my favorite band at the moment...well, along with Panic! At the Disco.))

**END ;D**


	5. Wildflowers

**Hiii lovelies :D As always, your reviews make me so happy! I love reading your thoughts!**

**Soundtrack: '**Til Kingdom Come - Coldplay

**Disclaimer**: Don't own anything.

**Note: **I do not intend for Simon to be a love interest. Just putting that out there. It's more like a, little brother-big sister, kind of thing.

**Warning: **ACTION FINALLY. Super-Simon-Wisdom-Of-Doom, Roger-Creepiness-And-Kind-Of-Sexiness-And-Action-O f-Doom, Ralph-and-Louise-Action-Of-Doom. (Everything is OF DOOM now. EVERYTHING.) Also, when I get to the chapters with M rated content, the rating will change from T to M. :)

**Because I'm a good person, I put some Roger/Louise action in here too. Just throw it all in and hope it turns out somewhat interesting. That's my tactic here. haha.**

**Enjoy ;;D**

* * *

**Wildflowers **

"**Hold my head inside your hands, I need someone who understands. I need someone, someone who hears. For you I've waited all these years. "**

The light of the sun settled upon the warm sand in beams of scattered dust, all floating amidst the putrid smoke that swelled in the air. Morning had come, and once again, the terrible terrors of the night had vanished, gone until the sun drooped and the moon rose, blank and vivid against the palette of the night canvas.

Days had drawn by, miserable and weak, and slowly, Louise noticed the growing length of her dark hair. It feathered out in a knotted mass, riddled with twigs and dirt and sweat - Oh what she would _do_ for a _proper_ bath. The others were no better - worse, even. The boys' hair grew longer, and what was once short fringes now fell long and coarse over their eyes.

Nobody really noticed. Nobody truly cared. Ralph was too focused on his fire to tend to his wavy locks, and Jack had his heart set on spilling the blood of a pig. He had yet to complete his goal, and although he and his hunters tried valiantly, their efforts were in vain.

Louise sat on the bank of the clear stream, smiling mindlessly as the water lapped at her bare calves. Her stockings had been disposed of long ago, and now all that remained of her once eloquent uniform was a dirty blouse and shredded skirt. She watched as Simon and the two boys who refused to help with shelters from a few days before - Bill and Maurice, she thought - splashed in the water, playing a game she had never heard of. It consisted of pretending to be submarines and then erupting from the water, sending delicate little beads across the expanse of the bank. Louise could hardly flinch when they splashed water on her; after all, it was quite a humorous display.

She vaguely noticed that Piggy had sat down beside her, and at the sight of him, both Maurice and Bill stopped their frolic to stare. It was as if none of them could comprehend why she was friends with him, thought it made perfect sense to her. Back at home, Louise would've been friends with Piggy. It didn't matter where they were; she liked him all the same. That wouldn't change.

At their looks of disgusted confusion, Piggy sighed and shook his head.

"Aren't you two supposed to be hunting?"

In unison, the two boys glanced at each other and began to sputter a reply.

"Jack let us have the day off," Maurice said notably, nudging his friend.

Bill nodded. "He only took his best hunters-"

"-for the hunt today-"

"-on account that we haven't caught anything-"

"-and he _really_ wants to catch something."

Simon dawdled behind the boys, floating in the water with his head turned to the sky. Louise smiled warmly at them. From what she could tell, they weren't as repulsively vile as that stupid Jack or his friend, Roger. Maurice and Bill were kind for the most part - ignorant dimwits, yes, but sweet.

She shuddered at the mere thought of Roger.

He hadn't dare approach her since the incident, but the rough scab on her cheek was more than enough of a reminder. At night, when Ralph was too exhausted to stay awake and the others crowded beneath the crudely made shelters in fear of the dark, Roger watched Louise. She could always feel his eyes burning through her, allowing her not one moment to forget his abruptly awful actions.

Louise was interrupted by the sound of laughter. Thrown out of her daze, she gazed up, only to see none other but Ralph. Her pale cheeks flowered in hot blush, and shamefully, she tried not to notice the way his rugged shorts tugged loosely at his hips.

Ralph walked towards the bank and slumped down beside Piggy, sighing in tired relief. The three boys had resumed their play, and with bright eyes, Ralph watched in evident distress. Things hadn't been so well lately. The littluns still complained of a beast, but now, some of the biguns advocated their claims. Jack was still as stubborn as ever and continued to grow irritatingly difficult towards Ralph. The idea of being rescued was now a mere afterthought on the true reality: staying alive. And for Ralph, it was a heavy burden. That was apparent.

Shyly, Louise gazed over at the boy, drinking in his golden locks and tanned skin. The island's labor had done him well, and all the muscle that he earned from playing sports back home remained flawlessly intact. He was pretty, that was for sure. It made Louise lightheaded just thinking about it.

But _no_. No, no, no. That wasn't proper. It wasn't _lady like_ to look at him with such _desire_, to have such an urge to reach out and brush those stray strands of hair from those dark blue eyes. He _did_ have pretty eyes, and his _hair_...

Simon wavered towards the bank before pulling himself up and sitting beside Louise. With a small smile, he gestured to Ralph and then to the water.

"Someone's gonna have to fill my place," the boy said. Ralph finally sighed before slipping into the cool water, obtaining a vociferous cheer from the two boys.

After a moment, Piggy huffed and stood up, obviously unamused by the horseplay in the water.

"I'll be at the clearing if you need me," he said to Louise, crinkling his eyebrows. Louise nodded silently and watched as her friend disappeared into the growth of the forest.

From beside her, Simon spoke.

"I heard about what happened with Roger."

The statement caught the girl off guard. Horrified, she turned to him, gaping.

"H-how-"

"I heard Jack talking about it." Simon was gazing off into the sky again, the glare of the sun reflecting brilliantly from his dark eyes. "He says rude things."

Louise burned with blush, but said nothing. Although familiar with the boys, she was still stubbornly shy with some, Simon included. She hardly knew him - only from the rumors she heard around camp, that is. He was quiet, but not like Roger - it was as if he was silent because his words actually _meant_ something. When he spoke, attention should be paid.

Enthused by her thoughts, Louise scooted closer to the boy and frowned. "And?"

"Roger's not a nice person."

Louise hesitated before she passed an idle hand through her matted hair and spoke. "W-what do you mean?"

"Back at home, he just wasn't very nice." Simon's eyes glittered with something lighter than his words, and with a blithe smile, he paused. "Some of the first years were scared of him. I'm not sure that he ever did anything, but there was always something...odd."

Louise was stoically silent. Simon sighed.

"He deliberately hurt you. He wanted to hurt you, I think."

"I know." Her words were a quiet breath, a mere truth tumbling across the clear stream in the breeze. Sunlight bathed down on the three boys wadding in the water, all overtaken by the ebullient freedom of the day. Louise's blue eyes hardened, and with a sharp breath, she glanced towards Simon. "How come he hasn't done it again?"

"I dunno." All wisdom faded from the boy's tone, and in that moment, he was as every bit childish as he looked. "Maybe he's 'fraid of Ralph."

Louise laughed, not in mockery of her fair headed friend, but more of that of Roger. Boys like Jack and Roger didn't _fear_ people like Ralph. They disrespected him blatantly at the meetings and took advantage of the boy's lack of hostility. There was nothing worse than a pair like Jack and Roger, nothing undeniably more reckless than two teenage hunters. Or at least that's what Piggy liked to say.

With a quivering tone, Louise softly muttered, "Do you...do you think he'll do it again?"

Simon, now lost in a trance, began to hum, and with a weak smile, he gently shrugged. "Roger does as he pleases, and he usually gets what he wants. Same with Jack."

Louise shivered and drew her knees to her chest, comforted by the soft beat of her heart and warmth of her flesh. Simon breathed softly beside her, and abruptly, the boy arose, skin still gleaming with a thousand tiny drops of water.

"W-where are you going?" she stuttered, intrigued.

Simon smiled down at her. "To find Piggy. I'll see you later."

Louise sat in silence as Simon's footsteps faded against the dark forest. The gay laughter from the cool stream inundated the stillness in the air, and with quiet elegance, the girl stood up, knees wobbling beneath her.

The three boys didn't even notice her sudden absence.

* * *

Unlike the hushed area by the stream, the forest was roaring with the chirp of birds and the rustle of creepers. It was a terrible feeling, to be alone in that green darkness, where flight seemed like the only sensible end. Her body begged to turn back, but something within her quavering heart urged her forward. Simon had her thinking, thinking that perhaps, Ralph and Piggy and all of the boys wouldn't truly be able to protect her in the end. But protect her from what? Louise shook away the thought and treaded on past the endless grooves in the forest, reaching out and brushing past the tethered vines and ropes that were laced along the trees. Danger was important to her anymore. Louise needed to protect Louise, and that was all that mattered.

Simon was young. He must've not known the severity of his words, the passive fear that they seemed to behold. Roger _meant_ to hurt her. Well, Louise knew that, but why did it seem so much more _cruelly_ inhumane coming from Simon? Perhaps it was because his words were definite. There was no wavering, _what-if's_ or _he-was-just-being-a-boy_. Simon spoke the truth, and to Louise, perhaps the truth was too rawly blatant.

The girl was disturbed by a sudden noise from behind a great palm. She heard a clamber of limbs, and suddenly, she caught sight of a flash of dark hair. There was a snarl, a glare, and then a spark of recognition.

Speak of the devil.

Roger growled in predatory frustration, as if Louise had interrupted some sacred ritual or practice.

"What are you doing?" he snarled, baring his sharp white incisors. Louise drew back, immediately fearful of his steady grey eyes.

"I-I was just-"

"The woods are no place for girlies." A small smile now curved upon the boy's lips, and with an almost charming demeanor, he moved up against the tree. "Did Piggy bore you?"

Eager for an escape, Louise stumbled back, but was blindly enraptured by a tangle of creepers. Roger snickered, and in a flash, he was over her, steadying his spear between the palms of his hands. He held a grin.

"Or did you come to find me?"

Louise shrank back. Trembling, she breathed, "I-I was looking for Si-Simon."

Roger stared at her for a moment. He clutched the spear in his hand, so tightly that his knuckles whitened at the strain. His muscles were tense, like some sort of animal ready for a fight. Roger crouched down and moved towards her till his warm breath cascaded upon her neck. Grinning, he inched his spear towards her throat and smiled.

"It's funny," he admired, watching his prey in sadistic glee. "You're quiet around camp. You don't speak to anyone besides Blondie and that fat kid. You're just...there."

Meeting his gaze, Louise daringly appraised his words.

"So are you," she muttered, and almost immediately, his grey eyes were ablaze in dark hunger.

"Well," he replied quietly, eyeing the scab on her cheek with an artisan's affection. "Maybe that's why we get along so well."

She knew his words had been a nasty attempt at ridiculing her. Roger snickered at her obtuse confusion and pushed himself away, as if he was repulsed by her mere figure.

"I still can't believe you told Blondie on me."

Something jarred within the girl. The memory protruded like a shameful spike, continuously reminding Louise of her weak plea to Piggy. As if he could stop Roger...

Roger sensed her deliriant daze and snorted, amused by her obvious conflict.

"That did you a fat lot, I suppose. Got Jack all riled up on you, huh?"

Louise gazed up at the boy, surprised by his almost playful look. The animalistic glare had vanished and was now restored by something blissful. He enjoyed watching her squirm, yes, but he enjoyed watching her calculating him even more. It was all a game, and she was a piece to be played.

When the girl remained stubbornly silent, Roger exhaled his pleasure in one bored breath and felt for his spear, avid on arousing some kind of reaction.

"He says bad things about you," Roger muttered casually, moving back in towards the girl with his spear poised in his careful grip. Her expression faltered, and with a small smile, Roger knew he had hit a nerve. "You were silly, angering him like that. Angering _me _like that."

Louise winced, and Roger cackled. Ah, _that_ was what he had been waiting for. That flinch, that single bead of sweat that slowly rolled down from her forehead. Fear. How beautifully terrifying.

Sneering, Roger prodded her with the blunt end of his spear and chuckled.

"Scared of me, are you?" His grey eyes were stormy in the exultation of his pursuit, and already, the black urge to hurt was bubbling up from beneath him. Society's reigns were slowly loosening on the boy, and with every ebbing strand left a darkness stronger than the last.

Louise drew back, and Roger pressed himself closer until he could feel her chest quivering beneath his. His mind was awry in terribly vulgar thoughts, and with a small smile, he bent his head and nipped at the soft flesh of her jaw, groaning when she yelped.

"Did I really leave such a bad impression?" he whispered, lips brushing past her delicately smooth skin. The girl whimpered, and Roger laughed. _Yes_. "Or were you just anxious for more?"

Louise tried to scowl, but she appeared anything but menacing, and with a taut glare, she attempted to twist her body away from Roger. Hardly more than the pathetic effort from last time, Roger grinned and brought his spear to her clothed shoulder, trembling in ecstatic anticipation as he tugged down her sleeve in aching leisure. Her bare shoulder was now present, but that soft, smooth skin was hardly enough to please Roger. With Louise still struggling beneath him, he bent forward and bit the flesh on her collarbone, only drawing back when the sweet taste of blood stung at his sensitive tongue.

Louise fisted hopelessly at him, breathlessly begging for Roger to stop. Her words fell upon deaf ears, and with the burden of his bite ladened upon her heart, she fell back, restlessly berating herself for being such a coward. But she was useless against him, and the predator clearly sensed her obvious desperation. _Like a mouse under a cat's teasing grip_...

Roger jutted their hips together, rocking in an almost sluggish fervor. She writhed under his movements and beat at his chest, but he only moaned. Her exertion was nearly driving him mad, and the blood that stained her sun bronzed neck heightened something in his very pit. Heated and inflamed by her quiet whimpers, Roger drug his lips across her jaw, quivering at the way she set his skin afire. He licked at the corner of her mouth, readying his prey to be devoured, and without a moment's hesitance, he pulled at her lip and melded their mouths, purposely biting the tender flesh just to extract another cry from the girl.

Instead, he felt her groan against his kiss, as if the pain had desensitized into carnal _pleasure_. Amused, he lifted his head, watching the blood that drizzled from their wet caress in lecherous delight, and smirked.

Quietly, he leaned towards her ear, sniggering softly when he felt her hopelessly trying to contain her sobs.

"You liked that, huh?" he whispered, passing his dry lips back over her neck. "Just. Like. Me."

Louise fell still, too frightened to disturb his obvious satisfaction, and tried to ignore the distant feeling of savage thrill that boiled up in the center of her core. It spread like a disease through the expanse of body, touching each nerve with energized vehemence. She couldn't possibly _like_ what was happening to her...his kiss was rough and nothing tender, and everything about the boy screamed lunacy.

But his body was so warm, and the temptation to quench her raging thirst was such a beguiling idea...

Roger took her moment of hesitance to his advantage and pursued the rest of her unscathed body, biting and suckling and growling all the same. For once, Louise refused to struggle and focused her attention towards the dry hum that now whirred somewhere deep inside of her. Her thoughts were mindless, her eyes lost in the mess of tangled black hair that now tickled her forehead. Roger wasn't gentle. He was grossly vicious, and as he parted her stiff legs with the small jab of his knee, he somehow managed to suppress the noise that was caught inside his throat. Her submission meant everything to him, and now that she was limply complying to his body's aching request, he felt brutishly powerful.

Roger went to kiss her once more, but a small squeal from behind him forced his attention. Snarling in annoyance, he twisted his head around, pleasurably surprised to see Jack, red head tousled and messy, leaning on his spear with a far too endearing smile.

So now he knew.

Grinning, Jack stepped forward, watching the now petrified girl in charmed humor.

"Well, well, well." The redhead met his dark companion and nodded, silently applauding his efforts. With a sly grin, he brought his gaze to Louise. "What do we have here?"

All traces of that strange feeling from before vanished, and like a frantic animal, Louise scrambled out from under Roger, clutching her knees protectively towards her chest. What had she _done_? Nothing. Nothing at all. She was tired, that was all. Frightened. _Confused_. She couldn't help but quietly rebuke her pitifully pathetic excuses. Whatever Roger had done, it unearthed something awfully odd within her, something that flared and grew each time she took one daring glance at the black haired boy's chapped lips. It wasn't that she wanted _him_, per se, it was that she enjoyed _that feeling_...that...that...

Louise was ashamed.

Jack sniggered, blatantly taking pleasure in the girl's look of utter trepidation, as if the very _sight_ of Jack and Roger together quaked her with unnerving strokes of fear. He was pleasantly startled to have come across Roger and Louise _together_, but then again, where else would his hunter be, sneaking off from the rest of the group just to pursue one measly track of pig shit he claimed to exert some sort of relevance. Jack knew what Roger's unspoken intentions had truly been, and now that he was able to indulge in this proof, his astonishment dissolved into a violent twist of envy. Even if the girl appeared to be somewhat unwilling, Roger almost _had _her. No matter how much Jack attempted to thrust away the thought, he knew that whoever made their mark on Louise first staked their claim. In the grand scheme of things, this was stupid; Jack hardly liked Louise anyway. She was annoying and painfully dull with none of the looks to impress Jack. But _still_ - she was a girl, and girls were good for one thing.

Roger, on the other hand, seemed to think differently, and somehow found other uses for Louise.

Smiling, Jack brought his hand to the girl's face, glaring when she turned away from him. Angrily, he threaded his fingers through a mass of tangled, brown hair and pulled, forcing her flushed face close to his. Roger's eyes narrowed - not in apprehension, but in mild irritation. After all, this was _his_ prey. And Jack wasn't even _interested _in Louise. Not like Roger was.

"Little whore," Jack hissed, grinning. "Look what you're doing."

Louise struggled to speak, and her obvious impediment made both boys guffaw.

"She liked it," Roger said suddenly, staring at his friend with dark redemption.

Louise somehow managed a stutter. "I-I di-did n-n-not!"

Her face was hot, but her blood ran cold and venomous beneath the warmth of her skin. She felt so wrong, so terribly sinful, like a dirtied piece of fabric never to be used again. It made her sick.

Roger laughed once more. "She's a stubborn thing."

"Isn't she?" Jack's icy eyes gleamed in an unfamiliar hunger, and fervently, he pushed Louise away and sat back down by his friend. "I do love a good fight."

Louise glanced between the two boys, fighting the urge to clumsily stand up and run. How lovely that seemed, to simply depend on her impulsive instincts and fly away. But she wasn't _weak_. Not like those other boys that cowered away when Jack swung his spear about like an imbecile. She was _stronger_, wasn't she?

Maybe not.

Jack grinned, splicing whatever courage Louise had mustered and leaned back in. His foul breath wafted, hot and moist, on the abused skin of her neck. Wincing, she drew back, trying to subtly slip away from his grasp. Her efforts were in vain.

"You liked it when he hurt you, huh?" Jack growled, eyes dark in lustful desire. Roger sniggered and Louise stiffly shook her head. _No, no, no! That's not what I meant! I just...I'm just..._

Jack cocked his head and frowned, freckled face crumpled in obvious distaste. "You're quiet now, little whore, but you weren't afraid of telling ol' Ralphie boy on Roger, were you?"

Louise's eyes watered in shame and humiliation, and quietly, she breathed, "W-why do you ke-keep calling m-me th-that name?"

"What?" Jack snorted, laughing. "Little whore?"

Louise nodded, and Jack was only sent into a fit of brutally bitter laughter. "You're pathetic."

With that, the redhead presently spat on the girl, nudged his friend, and arose. Smiling arrogantly, the duo slunk past Louise and wandered off into the thick darkness of the forest. The hunters would most definitely start to wonder where Jack and Roger were, and they couldn't risk being questioned. Not with that dreaded Piggy on their tail every few minutes, interrogating their whereabouts and intentions and_ everything_...

Louise sat on the ground, appalled with herself. What was _wrong_ with her?

_You're too cowardly to even defend yourself. You're weak. You're pathetic._

"But you're not like him. Not like Roger." She had to say it aloud, just to hear the words. She _wasn't_...and she hadn't _enjoyed_ his kisses or his touches or _him_...

Not like him. Not like him. She _wasn't_ like him. She _wasn't_ pathetic. She wasn't _anything_!

Wordlessly, Louise clambered away from the sight of her corruption and scampered away, truly abashed by the truth in the boys's words. _No_, she _wasn't_ like Roger. Never.

* * *

Ralph strayed behind on the beach, watching as the moon dipped low against the rippling ocean. His blonde hair stuck to the side of his face, matted with the sweat of working and the dirt of going unwashed. Frustrated, he brushed a hand through his hair - a meager attempt at smoothing it out. Still, the knots snagged at his tan fingers with stubborn apprehension. Ralph sighed. The beauty of the island was withering like the frayed edges of his shorts. The boys were reckless, Jack was defiant, and so far, nothing had been accomplished. Every time they completed a shelter, it would fall down, and all this talk, talk, _talk_ was getting them absolutely _nowhere_.

Ralph noticed the blur of a figure kneeling by the edge of the water. Curious, he slowly walked over, shying away slightly when he saw that it was Louise. After all, she was a _girl_ - not that it mattered...he wasn't sexist like that dolce, Jack. He just didn't want to seem _impudent_ or _rude_, and quite frankly, after his last encounter with the girl, her touch almost scared him. There had been other girls back at school who he had kissed and touched and said a million perfectly pretty things to just because it aroused an envious applause from the rest of his friends, but Louise was different. He didn't want to kiss her or touch her or anything if it was just for the pure elation of _doing it_. He respected Louise. And that meant a lot to him.

Sucking in his breath, the blonde sat down, watching as Louise gasped in quiet surprise. Her cheeks were stained by the incriminating trail of tears, and with a sniffle, she glanced at Ralph, obviously flustered.

So she felt the same way.

Great.

"W-what are you doing?" She asked quietly, breathing hard against the breeze of the ocean. The cool water kissed the very tips of their toes, tickling the calloused pads of of their feet.

Ralph looked towards the sea and shrugged. "You seem upset. I mean, you're all alone." He paused. "Are you alright?"

Louise shook her head, softly chuckling. Was it that apparent? Obviously so.

"I'm fine." She hadn't meant to snap at him, but then again, Ralph prodding around in her personal business didn't exactly make her very happy. "What's it you, anyway? Why do you care?"

"Is this going to become a normality?" Ralph quirked an eyebrow and smiled lightly, trying to dismiss the glare in her eyes. "You and me sitting on the beach at night, arguing over whether or not you're going to tell me what's really going on?"

"_Nothing_ is going on." Louise's tone was faint, weak. When she gazed at the boy, she saw her chief; strong, confident, and sickeningly friendly. Always extending a hand to the broken, like some kind of saint, as if he _knew_ every _bloody_ thing about how the world worked and why the island was a mess and exactly what Jack and Roger were all on about...

Hopelessly, she shifted towards Ralph and sighed. "How do you do it?"

Ralph frowned. "Do what?"

"Speak the way you do. You get up there every day and talk to them like it's _nothing_...and even when they get _cross_ with you, you just keep on going-"

"Why do _you_ care?" The boy shrugged and kept his eyes on the frothing ocean, the crash of the waves like music to his ears. "I don't see why it matters."

Louise's gaze was dark and sincere - _brutally _honest. As if she was lifting a veil from her face, she moved towards to Ralph and murmured, "Because I _can't_. I _can't_ speak."

Ralph's jaw was clenched and stiff, as if the idea of Louise chiding herself for such a stupid attribution frustrated him. Then a small smile flitted upon his face, and with boyish enthusiasm, he glanced sheepishly at the girl and laughed.

"Back at school, I was on the debate team, and I also did public speaking."

Louise rolled her eyes, unamused by his pettish display. "I know."

"You wanna know what happened the very first time I ever stood up and spoke in front of a huge group of people?"

Fascinated, Louise met his blue eyes, her heart thudding at the mere sight. Gulping, she brushed away the fire beneath her and nodded. Ralph smiled.

"I was eleven-years-old. It was back when I lived in Sheffield - that's where I went to primary school. I remember that year that the headmaster, Mr. Sulley - _dullest_ man you will _ever_ meet, I _swear_ - was retiring, so my class each had to write a paper on what he did that made him a good leader. From those papers, our teachers chose one to be read aloud in front the entire school at Mr. Sulley's final assembly." The boy hesitated, licked his lips, and finally managed to go on. "Guess whose paper they chose?"

With furrowed brows, Louise answered, "Whose?"

Ralph grinned. "Mine. And wasn't I just the _luckiest_ bastard! I memorized that paper word for bloody word. I rehearsed it _over_ and _over_, and then when the day of the assembly came, I was just so _nervous_!"

A moment of silence passed between them, and suddenly, the blonde boy was filled with with humiliated regret. He couldn't _actually_ tell her what happened that day...It was just awful...and what would _she_ think?

Louise cleared her throat and leaned in, eager for the rest of the story.

"So?" She asked impatiently, fingers threaded with grains of sand. Ralph smiled again and buried his face between his hands.

"You're going to laugh."

His embarrassment brought a small grin to the girl's face, and with a soft giggle, she shook her head and pressed forward.

"I won't...I promise!"

"You will."

"I won't."

Ralph peeked up and smiled, his dark blue eyes skeptical and dubious. Louise nodded warmly and giggled once more, extricating another rush of warmth to the blonde's cheeks. Sighing, he lifted his head and turned towards Louise, heart thudding in the tremor of the truth.

"I wet my pants."

Louise sat in silence for a moment, stunned at his stark honestly. But then - although she tried to contain it - her face was red in the urge to laugh, and suddenly, she sprawled out on the sand, clutching her stomach in mirth. Ralph gazed on, pleased in cheering her up, but chagrined with his own terribly mortification. The girl laughed, ignoring the sand that clung to the thin fabric of her dress, and with a breath, Ralph nodded and fell back beside her, allowing himself to laugh along.

"You wet your pants?" Louise's eyes were bright in bliss, and at the sweet sight,

Ralph grinned, growing redder by the minute.

"I did. I wet my pants in front of the entire school."

After the laughter finally abated, the two teenagers stared at each other in empathized humor and pure contentment. The damp sand pressed into their sun scathed skin, blurring the truth of dreams and reality. The rapture of the moment caught them both in a thoughtless drift.

Finally, Louise asked, "How did you live with it?"

"Dunno." Ralph's gaze flickered from humored embarrassment to sudden hunger and carefully, he reached out a grazed his thumb across Louise's jawline, smiling slightly when she quietly gasped.

"You just need to find your voice," Ralph murmured, thumbing gently at a nasty scratch on her cheek. His eyes were sincere and humane, bluer than the ocean that nipped at their toes and roared out against the warm breeze. "The words will come when you're ready."

Louise suppressed a hopeless laugh and shifted towards the boy, watching with eyes fixed upon the gentle parting of his lips. Blonde waves of hair flopped into his forehead, casting a shadow upon his cobalt gaze. Louise fought back the impulse to brush away all those stray hairs, to weave her hands within all that tangled blonde hair.

_No_. She was reprimanding herself again. _You're not like Roger and all his stupid desires. You are a lady. A lady._

"One day," Ralph continued, his words a simple whisper against the whir of the wind. "The words will come from _here_," He touched her heart with gentle affection before passing a hungry gaze across her lips. "-to _here_." Tenderly, he brushed his thumb over her lip, unintentionally setting both their nerves ablaze. Her skin was on fire; her heart like a terrible drum against the silence of their precious moment. Ralph's mind was awry in thoughts - _bad_ thoughts - _no, no, no_, this was _wrong_. This was _not_ proper of a _young man_ and a _young woman_.

But the fire beneath his flesh was overwhelming, and suddenly, the innocence of the night was swelling in incredulity. Nothing was as it seemed. Nothing was what they expected.

And then, like a moth drawn to the covetable flame, Ralph pressed his lips against hers, moving his hand so that he cradled her head to his. She fought with herself innately for a moment, but eventually succumbed to the warmth within her heart and moved her mouth sensually against his. He pulled at her lip, tugging with gentle hunger, and slipped his tongue within her hot, wet mouth. Louise groaned deeper than before, indulging in Ralph's sweet flavor. Greedily, she passed her tongue across his teeth, her mind on fire when he returned her lustful moan. Something within Louise ignited, and almost instantly, she pulled herself on top of the boy, pressing herself close till her heart beat in time with his. Their flesh was hot and aflame, spurring in beauty of their kiss. Ralph's hands feverishly groped along her subtle curves, clawing and squeezing until she squealed against him. They were lost between the fading edges of ardor and confusion, and with hearts lathered in desire, the two teenagers moved against the other, sloppily kissing and touching and _enjoying_ the feeling of being utterly consumed by the other.

Louise sucked on Ralph's lip, crushing her hips against his. The fire within her burned bright, devouring her senses with ferocious hostility. The boy elicited a groan from beneath her and promptly arched his hips, forcing their most vulnerable nerves to clash in heated unison. They groaned simultaneously, burning in pleasure, and Louise clung to the boy till her small breasts pressed almost painfully into his broad chest. Ralph's eyes were lost in a daze, and as the two broke for two strangled gasps of air, their gazes connected. Immediately, the fire was doused, and as the reality of their actions settled upon their still breathing consciences, guilt was embedded in the recesses of their minds. Their bodies ached for one another, but their minds were throbbing in disarray. Right and wrong were two very similar things, and with the brush of pencil, either one could be contorted.

As if his touch hurt her, Louise sprang back from Ralph, limbs quivering in the severity of her actions. They both were shocked; abused lips caught in gaping slurs, and quietly, the awkward excuses began to fly.

"That was uncalled for," Louise muttered, brushing her hair back. Ralph could only gape.

"I'll say."

The girl disregarded the flowering sensation in her core and felt suddenly ill with herself. _Lust_. Was that what it was? The sensation to kiss and touch and _have_ but not to truly _love_? Roger flecked back into her mind, and absently, she groaned in agitation. She _wasn't_ like him...Ralph was _different_...Still, she couldn't help but connect the way she sat over Ralph to how Roger had previously attacked her.

Well, she hadn't _attacked_ Ralph. Not intentionally, anyway.

Louise drew a frustrated breath and turned her flushed face away from the boy. "I'm not like him."

Ralph frowned. "Like who?"

"I'm not like him."

"What are you on about?"

Louise's dark blue eyes watered, and instinctively, Ralph felt the need to hold her, comfort her. But suddenly, the idea wasn't as appealing. It was as if Louise hadn't _enjoyed_ being with him. Ralph was considerably hurt by this, and in an attempt to reassure her, the boy shrugged and looked away.

"Look, I'm sorry that..._that_ happened. It was stupid and impulsive-"

"Impulsive?" Louise's face darkened. "You were just _impulsive_?"

"No!" Ralph had paled, but his realization was too late. Once again, he'd manage to ruin the moment. "I didn't mean that-"

"Right." The girl arose, skirts in a flounce, and with a glare, she twisted her face at the blonde and huffed. "I forgot that you're too _good_ for someone like me."

Ralph watched as the girl sauntered away, fists clenched at his sides. Why was he such an _idiot_? He licked his lips, relishing in the flavor of Louise that they still held. She wasn't beautiful or strong or _anything_ really...

But she danced with a flame brighter than Ralph had ever seen, and that mere light seemed to ignite a feeling far darker than anything he had ever experienced.

* * *

**A/N:** ASDFGHJKL. Longest chapter yet. Please forgive my concision issues. I hope that was satisfactory. WAS IT?. Eh crap ending. Damn. Also, I've had a revelation: Ralph is now one my favorite characters. YAY.

I'm in Savannah for my birthday and I found first edition Charles Dickens collections! Woo!

Instragram. Follow me. **chloedenneyxx** .

Review? :D

**FINI ;D**


	6. When the Angels Fall

**Hello lovelies! I'm so sorry for the delay on an update! Family emergency and long story short, I had to catch a plane to Australia. But anyways - thank you for all your wonderful reviews and responses! They mean so much to me! **

**Soundtrack: What Sarah Said- Death Cab for Cutie**

**Disclaimer**: Big surprise, but I STILL don't own anything from Lord of the Flies! And no offense, but you'd be daft if you thought that I did!

**Note: **I know the boys wore warpaint before they killed the first pig, but it was just easier to write it this way. Also, has anyone noticed that Maurice wasn't involved in the first pig hunt? I'm pretty sure he was belly flopping into the water with Ralph and such. INTERESTING :D

**Warnings: **Language, anybody? :D Little bit of abuse, so if that makes you uncomfortable, I suggest you leave (then again, there's been worse abuse in previous chapters, so yeah...). As usual, absurd length. Expect the rating to change to M in either the next chapter or the one after.

**Now please, enjoy ~**

* * *

**When the Angels Fall**

"**Love is watching someone die, so who's going to watch you die?"**

* * *

Roger was furious.

He was never the one to envy or hate. Back at home, there was very little to be jealous of. But now his heart dripped with contempt, an emotion so dark, it forced Roger to snarl and lash out at a nearby tree. He sunk his fingers in the coarse bark, wincing at the slight pain beneath his nails. Why was he angry? It didn't make _sense_! Flabbergasted and annoyed, the boy ravenously tore at the tree and growled, an animalistic ferocity gleaming in his stormy grey eyes.

That bitch.

Roger peered at the beach from behind the hulking trunk of the tree, inundated with immediate distaste. Ralph sat alone by the trim of the crashing waves, staring out at the sea in obvious despair. _Idiot_. Roger's fingers tightened their hold on the flesh of the tree, clawing ruthlessly at the vulnerable bark. It wasn't _fair_! After everything _he_ had taught that...that _girl_, she had to go and _ruin it all_!

His heart ached, not in sadness, but in delirious resentment. Faintly, Roger remembered a toy truck he used to have when he was smaller . His little brother tried to play with it once, so Roger had stuck a fork in his hand. It was _his_ toy truck, and that bothersome little toddler shouldn't have had any business with it. After that, his mother enrolled him in a clinic that helped him learn to 'share'. The memory curled a smirk upon the boy's glowering face. He never liked to share. Not with _his_ possessions.

His eyes were drawn back to the blonde on the beach. Louise had been there with him only moments ago, unaware that her hunter still faithfully watched her from the safe distance of the forest. The trees were enough protection during the night, and besides, curiosity got the best of the boy. After what seemed like an eternity, that _stupid_ blonde and Louise were marring each other with impassioned kisses, their groans of raging delight much too loud for Roger to bear. These bitter thoughts were only lethal ammunition that now, Roger would _truly_ have to stake his claim. Louise was growing adventurous, and of course, who else would she take her fancy upon but pitifully perfect _Ralph Adler_? Oh yes. Roger loathed him more now, and with reason.

It hardly mattered, because no matter what, all the angels would eventually fall, and from their ashes, the demons would rise. Roger would be there to greet them when they did.

* * *

Water flitted between Louise's toes like tiny insects washing over her flesh. It was cool and unbelievably invigorating, washing away the grime on her feet like the pure drop of holy water upon the sins of a bastard. She sighed, enveloped between the thick roping of the forest and the soft grain of the sand, all plush and as silken as a pillow beneath her skin. If she thought hard enough, the ocean could be as warm as bath water and the forest as safe as the room she called her own back home. When she closed her eyes, she could still see it; eerily tidy and always in order, with her white bedspread and that old dollhouse she hadn't used since she was eight...

Her eyelids fluttered open, scarcely accustomed to the bright glare of the drooping sun. The light was caught against the water, shining and opaque with the gentle curve of the waves. It crashed and drew as limbs dove down deep beneath the sea's depths, emerging with boyish grins and playful sneers, all in hopes of dousing what was inevitably a certain hopelessness of rescue. Louise watched in lazy satisfaction; seeing her peers frolic with untethered nonchalance made her heart burn in unexploited cheer. But even so, nothing quite compared to the dry ache beneath her heart, a constant reminder of the void left after the...the..._after they dropped in_.

It felt so less real saying that. Piggy stirred from beside her.

"Say we get rescued." His specs caught the glint of sunlight, concealing the true color of his eyes. "Say we do. Where'll we go?"

The question wasn't spoken directly to Louise, she noticed with stark interest. It went unanswered for all the boys, yet only some even had a mind to pay Piggy a glance. The others went on doing as they had done before - shoving, pinching, and splashing between the salty current of the waves.

It was then that Piggy looked towards Louise.

"Say we get rescued," he repeated, voice firm. "Where do we go?"

Louise frowned; eyebrows furrowed over her dark blue eyes.

"Home, I s'pose."

"No." Piggy was so blatantly unsatisfied with the bland vagueness of her answer. "What if we don't _have_ homes no more?"

"What do you mean?" Louise's eyes were scathed in the utter truth of his premonition. Piggy caught her look of agitation and sighed, deeply convicted by her obvious lack of motivation for reality.

"I mean, they made us leave because we were in danger, right?"

Louise nodded as a sudden cold reckoning passed through her veins.

Piggy drew a breath. "Well, what if something bad happened? What if they bombed our houses and our families? What if they're all gone?"

At this, Louise tilted her head, slightly befuddled and reluctant to believe. The thought of her quaint little house and all its pleasures obliterated in the all consuming blast of an explosion forced her tattered heart into shatters. Her parents - the ones that had doted upon her and loved her and _cared_ for her, and then her precious brother and all the entities that belonged to him...if they were _dead_?

The girl shivered, displaced within herself. There was something oddly genuine beneath the bright glare of Piggy's specs, something so honestly raw, it tore away the bare mask of blatant ignorance Louise forced herself to wear. The truth was plain; rescue was a paling possibility, and even if they were so lucky as to be rescued, the lives they had once known might be swathed away and plastered like crumpled, peeling paper upon a broken wall.

Someone shrieked from the pool of water, and instinctively, Louise passed her gaze towards the boisterous boys. One of the choir boys - Maurice, she believed - was laughing hysterically as he repeatedly dunked a littlun's head beneath the cool water, stopping just long enough for the poor thing to catch his breath. A couple of the other boys chuckled in roaring mirth alongside him, obviously appeased by his childish display. Louise glowered and brought her gaze of disapproval across the barren sea, idly wishing for a ship or a plane or _anything_ to rescue them from the hoax of paradise.

Piggy wasn't as disgruntled by Maurice's pettish domination.

"You don't think very much," he said to the bunch of them.

From beside a small cluster of rocks on the edge of pool, Ralph shook his head and plunged into the water, maddened and annoyed that Piggy would even dare try to impede his theories of 'logic' into such a careless time of play. Louise stared in unabashed greed, noting the way the water ran in rivulets down the firm indents of his sun browned abdomen as he immersed himself from the water. Flushed, she swallowed thickly, studying the gentle curve of his lips with subtle adoration. Vaguely she could remember the way they had felt upon her skin: smooth, soft, impeccably gentle - so very unlike the rough intrusion of that blasted boy Roger. His name made her shiver, but the light of Ralph and his blithe smile somehow turned her dark thoughts away.

It was odd how the blonde could have such an affect on her.

At the sound of Piggy's voice, Maurice released his flailing victim and turned with a snort, eyes muted in the annoyance of being disturbed.

Frowning, he rolled his eyes. "I'm not daft, fatass-"

"He didn't call you stupid," Simon said from behind him, green eyes bright.

"I know." Maurice's voice was soft, almost as if Simon had forced to him face whatever sins he conjured. Sadly, Maurice dove off into the water and emerged beside Ralph, obviously dejected and gloomy with Piggy's revelation.

"You never answered me," Piggy continued, reaching up to touch his specs. "I asked you a question."

There was a mumble of laughter before someone finally answered the boy.

"My dad's in the navy," Ralph said suddenly, pushing away the pale hair that was plastered against his forehead. "I'm not worried about what happens after we get rescued."

"_If_ we get rescued."

Maurice had submerged himself in the crisp air near the bank beside Louise and Piggy, with his dark curls sprawled in damp curls across his head. His words sank dark and deep within the humor of the group, coiling and grasping at the once light atmosphere with somber fingertips. He raised a relevant point; it was hard for anyone to even contemplate their families and homes if the idea of rescue continued to grow bleaker and bleaker.

In just that moment of sudden doubt, Piggy's mouth fell agape, and with quivering fingers, he tapped Louise lightly on the shoulder.

"Lou-" He was searching for words, but they fell as nonsense from the pink of his mouth. She scanned him with resilient desperation.

"What is it?"

He grasped for her hand, now with the undying curious attention of the others. Thick fingers curled around her wrist, pressing until it was sore with the pressure of his nails. He was silent, his lips apart in the blank disposition of wavering certainty, and almost as slow as the breath that fell along the group, Piggy's hand lifted and pointed towards the barren sea. But strangely, the sea was no longer bare, instead blurred with the dot of a grey, hulking smudge, a mere figure with the curling line of smoke and blaring beat of a horn.

It was a ship.

Louise's heart slowed. Piggy fell still, his fingers pressed almost painfully into the flesh of Louise's wrist. Breathlessly, the girl left Piggy's side and crawled towards Maurice, shaking his shoulder with shy urgency.

"M-Maurice?"

But the boy had already seen it. Wordlessly, he slipped towards Ralph and nearly collided into him, bucking the boy over into the shimmering water. Ralph emerged with a gulping gasp of air, and with wide eyes, his lips formed the faint words no one else could bring themselves to speak.

"It's a ship." His words were a simple breath before his voice rose in certain elevation. "The fire!"

In a rush of splattered water and furious shouts, Ralph stumbled out from the water, his dark undergarments clinging to his waist like a second skin. If the circumstance had been lighter, Louise would have allowed herself to dawdle upon the sodden form of his frame, but her mind was usurped by the brief flame of hope. Clumsily, she clambered up, tugging Piggy along with her, and rushed to follow Ralph, Maurice, and Simon through the woods.

The twigs snagged and scratched at her skin, tugging until beaded drops of crimson made their away across flared, angry flesh. Stones prodded and poked beneath the soles of her feet, and her hair was awry in stiff sweat and grime, all a dirty reminder of how desperate she was for the ship beyond to stop and save them. Piggy clasped her hand, helplessly dependent on her guidance through the snare of the forest, and as the duo bumbled after the three boys, their hearts pounded in muted unison in faith and conviction. If _only_...

Louise could hear anguished cries from the mountaintop, a sure sign that something was amiss. Upon reaching the others to where a hissing fire should have been, she suddenly understood why. Hope was doused like the fire that lay smoldering in the ash that once was flame. Her heart was drenched in sadness; the fire was out. There was no smoke. The thought of being rescued faded past the pale blue sea and left only a quivering feeling of defeat.

Ralph stood staring at the ashen fire, his face as pale as the clouds above.

Tentatively, Louise let go of Piggy's hand and moved towards the blonde, her fingers trembling as her hand met his shoulder. He looked up, shocked at the contact, especially considering her withdrawal since the night they had kissed. His dark blue eyes were matted his confusion - confusion and dark, dark anguish. Ralph's lips fell apart, almost as if he was going to speak, but only a quiet breath came forth. Louise melted. She wanted to gather the boy within her arms and hold him close, to stroke back those disheveled locks until they were tame with the intensity of her affection. But she couldn't. All those feelings were dangerously nasty, things that her parents would frown upon and call to church. They were the kind of feelings that led to lust, the very thing that seemed to fuel the chaotic madness within that crazed Roger. And Louise couldn't bear to mar Ralph with the sickening slime of sin.

Even so, she couldn't help but pull him close when his legs faltered beneath him.

Flustered, he pushed himself away, watching in hopeless despair as the ship dimmed against the backdrop of the sea. He reached out, almost as if to thwart the thing, and then fell to his knees.

"Wait!" His voice was hoarse - caught in his throat somewhere between tears and disbelief. "Wait!"

Maurice had begun to yell out with him until both the boys screamed vainly into the endless abyss of the ocean, choking back the tears that so painfully wanted to escape. Louise stepped back, threaded in between the dreaded realization that rescue had so easily slipped from her waiting grasp.

Her heart turned bitter.

Ralph's pleas ended prematurely, and slowly, he brought himself to stand, shaking in obvious anger. Tear swollen eyes turned to a furious glare, and where bewilderment once shaded his face, anger now stole his expression.

Hotly, he looked towards Simon and muttered, "He let the fire go out."

Initially, Louise was unsure of whom he met. But then it sunk in; Jack was supposed to be on fire duty, or at least he was supposed to have some of his hunters tend to it. Maurice, obviously, wandered off to be with Ralph and Simon, but the other hunters...

The hideous noise of chanting rose in the distance. Ralph turned a wary eye in the direction of the song, his fist clenched at the mere sound. Oh yes, they sounded _happy_. Happy with themselves. If only they knew how much they had truly and really mucked up.

The sound morphed into faces as the hunters appeared across the landing. The group was aghast at what they saw. Bronzed faces were masked by mud and dark clay, surely concealing expressions of unrestrained triumph. Spears were held high above their heads, and from the middle, four boys swung a pig limply from their shoulders. Louise paled considerably; rescue had been traded for the joy of meat, a pleasure with stakes too consequential to even reflect upon. Silence stretched between painted boys and the dampened others, all too absorbed in their own feats to pay notice to the other.

A certain flash of red hair jumped out before the rest, blue eyes bright against the dark paint of his face.

"Look!" he hooted, fisting one hand through untidy hair. "We did it! We got a pig!"

Louise watched Ralph in dead stability as he wordlessly glanced at the redhead in unadulterated agitation. When the blonde remained silent, Jack chuckled playfully and stormed through the landing, boasting of his victory with mad fervor.

"We stuck it!"

The hunters cheered, raising their spears. Louise spied for Roger, but found he was unrecognizable against the palette of masked faces. She wasn't sure whether to be relieved or terribly frightened that her hunter was even more stealthy and disguised than before.

The air grew tense with the insufferable damage of ignorance, and slowly, it seemed to sink into Jack that something was amiss. The joy in his eyes faded to blank interest, and with a quirked eyebrow, he moved slyly towards Ralph, studying his gloomy features in apathy.

"What is it now?" the redhead slurred, as if Ralph's silence was irritating. "I brought you a pig, just like I said."

"You let the fire go out."

The world around them exhaled in one quivering breath. Ralph's words hung in the air like heavy, wet paint, soaking the group in the dark reality of their fun was over now, and the truth prevailed. Even so, Jack remained oblivious.

"Well, we can light it now. All better. See?"

Jack went to reach for Piggy's specs, but Ralph stopped him, snatching his hand in midair. Louise's heart throbbed.

"You-let-the-fire-go-_out_." Ralph's blue eyes were ablaze, his mouth lifted in a roguish scowl.

Jack was still insistently dismissive. "We can light it-"

"There was a ship."

Jack's painted face twisted into staggered shock, instantly mirrored by his swarm of hunters. A few littluns started to cry, and even Louise felt the plague of tears upon her. Infuriated and enraged, Ralph brushed past the hunters and towards Jack, skin flushed and red from the heat of the sun and truth of his words.

"There was a _bloody ship_!"

Jack glanced around desperately, almost as if he was searching for a scapegoat. But the landing was bare, stripped away till only the jagged edge of consequence ensued. His hunters were as helpless as he, and in a stroke of immediate stupidity, he prodded at the dead pig and breathed.

"B-but we got a pig-"

"We could've been rescued!" Ralph regarded the paint on Jack's face in distaste and stepped closer. "You let the fire go out to _get a pig_!"

"We need meat!"

"We need to be _rescued_!"

"Look." Jack's lips twitched as reached out towards Ralph, anxious to fix his obvious blunder. "It was an accident. There'll be another ship."

"And what if there's not?" Ralph asked, piercing the impenetrable silence. "What if that was our only chance at rescue?"

Jack growled savagely, pulling his fist as if make a blow. "I did what I had to, Adler."

"You _fucked up_."

They were close together now; fists clenched and teeth bared, snarling and angered like two feral animals. Louise watched, flinching at the sight of the glinting knife sheathed within Jack's belt, and then at the vague possibility that a fight might incur...

"I was _hunting_." Jack's eyes were dead with fury. "I was doing my job."

"Your _job_ is to watch the fire before anything else!"

Jack's hand was at the knife beneath his belt, sunburned fingers curling around the wooden handle. The air was swollen with dreary anticipation, and almost like the waves of the ocean below, the crowd fell back against the pallid darkness, unsure whether to hoot in enthusiasm for the strenuous mood or to simply wade away into the swarthy blur of the night.

From beside her, Piggy gently nudged Louise, forcing her to slip back behind the crowd of painted boys. Her stomach tightened; Jack's eyes glowed with a sickeningly familiar feral glint, one she had seen one too many times before. He was ruthlessly capable of anything, that Jack was, and with Ralph putting a damper on the flight of his kill, she knew his wild instincts would run amuck beneath that painted face. Rigidly, she peered on as Jack clenched the knife's handle, growling at Ralph fiercely. If a fight did occur, Jack was readily armed, but Ralph...he only had the browned skin of his fists and the meager strength in his arms. Punches could bruise, but knives could cut. Cut and rip and spoil everything.

Louise hadn't noticed how much she had begun to shake. Shuddering, she felt for Piggy's hand, intwining their fingers when she finally meet his warm flesh. He squeezed her hand and returned an empathetic stare, eyes melting in both anger and in sorrow for Jack's unforgivable deeds.

And then he stepped forward.

"We could've been rescued!" Piggy screamed, the sudden ambience of his voice proliferating into the harrowed mood. His eyes were alight in the grueling mess of everything, from the quaking form of Louise to the glittering knife sheathed beneath Jack's grasp. At their silence, he spoke again. "We need the fire to be rescued. We can't have you lot running off to play pretend when we need the fire to be-"

"Shut _up_ fatty!" Weary of the boy's antics, Jack snarled and leaped forward, punching Piggy where he so badly wanted to punch Ralph. Piggy staggered back, face twisted in pain, and gingerly, he clutched his gut. His glasses were hurled to the side, and after a sickening _crack_, Piggy blindly felt for them and sniffled.

"My glasses! You broke my glasses!"

Already the bile rose in his throat.

There was an unquenchable silence that followed the blow, almost like the entire world was holding its breath. But then the silence was swallowed by the simpering scar of mirth, and most everyone was consumed by the hideous plague of laughter. It reeked and turned boys upon their knees, forcing even a light smile from Ralph. Louise stood horrified, hastily stumbling to assist her fallen friend. At the sight of Ralph restraining the urge to laugh, her nerves flared. This wasn't _right_. Out of everyone, Ralph should be least likely person to jeer at the suffering of someone else. But there he was, barely retaining his curdling grin. Louise was tired of their foolishly petty childish play.

Raging with bitter anger, Louise clung close to Piggy and glowered. "Shame on you!"

At first, the landing still quaked with laughter. Louise grimaced and cried louder now, "Shame on all of you!"

This threw the group into startled amusement. The littluns quieted first, darkly sorry at the sudden severity of their actions. Guilt soon devoured the rest of them, including Ralph, whose pretty face hardened with ignominy and discernment. They seemed shocked that at last the girl had spoken. Even Jack lost the severe cattiness about him and now looked upon the girl in strange interest.

Louise felt the words slipping from her grasp. In desperation to withhold her speech, she glanced at Piggy, who was curled up on the floor, staring at the shattered lens of his specs. Her eyes wandered to the rouge redhead and then to the baffled blonde, both of whom looked astounded and intrigued by whatever instigated Louise's sudden outbreak. And then, like honey and milk streaming down a hill, the words came.

"It's not right," Louise said, quietly at first. She followed the gazes of the boys, some of which stood masked in paint, others who were still dripping with the defeat of the ship. She swallowed and continued. "None of you understand. We could die here! We could all die here, and you're too busy worrying about bloody _pigs_ and _meat_ to comprehend that!"

Silence wavered. One particular painted boy with dark raven hair and shining grey eyes quirked a dubious eyebrow at the grimy girl. She didn't recognize him. Hardly anyone did, not with all this mud and filth lathered upon him. He smiled - he was the _only_ one to smile. Her attempt to reason with the lot of them was as amusing as it was impressive. Still, it was weak. She was weak. Weak enough to succumb to an idiot like Ralph and defend that porker Piggy.

Still, Roger was strangely enticed to hear her out. Leaning on his spear, he glanced at Jack and listened as she helplessly went on.

"We need to listen...we need to straighten out our priorities and-"

"I'm afraid we're not all whinging little girlies," Jack interrupted coyly, slinking away from Ralph and moving guilefully towards the girl. "And if you care so much, go marry your fat friend and be on your merry way-" His icy eyes glittered as a smile twitched upon his face. "-_whore_."

"Hey! That's enough!" Ralph pushed forth before Louise even had enough time to snivel a small reply. Her eyes stung with the poison of tears, and her heart ached at the evident flush of her skin. A dozen pairs of eyes turned towards her, uncertain whether to laugh or feel pity for the poor thing.

Jack's gaze flitted between crazed and worse, immediately disheveled by the blonde's sudden stand. Ralph stood firmly, unaware of the fire that burned beneath Louise and the rage that nestled itself down deep in Jack.

But Jack was silent.

At seeing his foe's compliance, Ralph turned angrily to the hunters, condemning each with the burn of his dark blue eyes.

"I won't tolerate any of _that_ - I don't care _who_ you are or how many _pigs_ you kill. That was vile and a truly dirty trick." At this he paused and peered at Jack, who was swimming in his own hatred. "First with Piggy, and then with Louise. We could've been rescued, but because you all let the bloody fire go out, we were robbed of that chance. We could be here _forever_. We could die here. And none of you seem to care."

The hunters stared down at their feet now, somber and shamed. Only two boys out of the entire group seemed unscathed by the reality of their actions. Roger and Jack, spilling with bitter contempt for that no good chief, watched each other in mutual understanding, waiting for the other to call the first move. Roger was dangerously silent, eyes flickering from the blonde to the girl on the ground. Jack, however, realized the sway that Ralph had over his hunters, so with a light smile, he moved towards the chief, and sighed.

"You're right."

Ralph looked confused at his words. "Pardon me?"

"I said you're right." Jack's eyes glimmered in false amity. "And I'm sorry."

"_What_?"

"I apologize," Jack said simply, earning a quiet gasp from both Piggy and Louise. "And I'm sorry. You're right."

Ralph, speechless, fumbled for a reply, but only managed an incoherent string of slurs. Seeing that the chief was rightly befuddled, Jack moved towards the group and spread his arms, welcoming them with a smug grin.

"Let's make a fire," he said, the words dripping like venom upon the group. "We have a pig to roast."

* * *

She was back home.

She was five-years-old again, swinging gently on the old tire swing her father roped around the branch of an ancient oak tree. The wind made the ashen sky swirl with the brilliant vibrance of dark autumn leaves, and the warmly familiar smell of pine cones and homemade pumpkin soup wafted through the back window of her pale brick house. Her mother hummed from inside, and already she could hear Timothy scaling up the hill, presumably with a bundle of wild daisies and what not.

The swing creaked under her weight. Timothy called out for her from behind the swing, his voice echoing off the emptiness of their yard. Their mother laughed heartily from indoors, chuckling something about her bloody brother and his batty wife. The mere familiarness of it all sent a beautiful shiver through Louise's spine, and with a genuine smile, she leaped off the swing to meet Timothy by the door. She could hardly contain her excitement - to see her younger brother and his cheeky grin would be a pleasure she would never grow used to. But as she landed on the soft ground, she found she was no longer outside, but on the feathery cushion of her bed. And she wasn't five-years-old anymore.

She was fifteen. She was exactly how she was _now_.

Confused, Louise turned around, but found she was trapped on her bed. She didn't exactly care; she practically sunk into the soft downy of the blankets, and the sweet smelling linen of the pillow called for her head to sleep. Timothy was nowhere to be seen, nor was her mother. She was alone, and she was at peace.

Or so she thought.

Just as she sunk down beneath the blankets, she felt a warm hand brush on her thigh, squeezing with tender sensuality. A pair of soft lips made featherlight kisses on her neck, igniting a certain fire beneath her frame. She gasped, immediately vivified by the explosion within her pit. With savage vehemence, she turned towards her partner and bent down to see his face, a face she somehow was already expecting.

Dark blue eyes searched hers as Ralph pushed his lips against her own, melding their mouths and feeding that inexplicable hearth. The flame rose, and before long, Louise was losing herself. Her bed was always the one place she could feel safe, the one place where she could hide away when her parents her fought or her mother spoke only in drunken slurs. She liked to watch the rain fall against the cool glass of the window, and sometimes she would count the drops, just biding her time until Mummy was alright and Daddy promised not to shout in front of little Timothy. But now her bed, laden with comfort, was becoming a place for exploration, a place for wild kisses and desperate moans.

She kissed him - his face, his pale hair, the length of his torso - indulging in his sweet taste, burning with passion. His hands moved against her body, squeezing and groping what little curve she had. They were lost in the tangle of fresh smelling sheets and perfumed clothes, rugged reminders of the reigns society somehow held on them. But those reigns were coming loose, pried away by something perilously worse than any set of rules or laws.

It was lust, and it boiled between both the teenagers.

His lips were on her throat, pressed against the delicate beat of her heart as if he'd never let go. And then he was doing something, just like he'd done the night on the beach, but this time he didn't stop. She wasn't sure what it was, but it caused the fire beneath her to grow viciously, almost to the point of no return. She was screaming, in both pleasure and pain, and he screamed right along with her.

Louise wasn't exactly sure what was happening, but when she looked up into those blue eyes, her heart melted and she forgot all about Timothy and Mummy and Daddy and the swing and the soup and the leaves and _everything_.

Ralph consumed her, utterly and wholly.

~. . .~

It would've had to have been past midnight when Louise felt someone nudge her roughly in the side. Flustered from the bizarreness of her dream and intoxicated with the heaviness of sleep, Louise hardly managed to lift her eyelids. She felt sweaty, clammy even, and there was an odd tightness within her pit of her stomach. Either the meat from earlier made her sick, or her feelings for Ralph were growing much too dangerous.

She presumed it was the latter, but she'd like to think it was food poisoning. Society would understand that more than a stupid, giddy crush. _Crush_. Was it that? She hoped not.

That's when she was shoved again in the side, _hard_ too. With a small groan, she went to lift herself, but it seemed as though her pursuer thought her incapable. Harshly, he pulled her up, ignoring the way she practically stumbled over his feet and grunted in exhausted delusion. His fingers were pressed painfully into the flesh of her arm, aggravating the already flowering bruises that slowly had begun to fade. His grasp was sickeningly familiar, and the way he neglected her comfort and feelings rose an aching memory within her.

When the boy turned Louise around to face him, she was unsurprised to see a pair of irate grey eyes and a mop of dark black hair.

Roger.

He clamped his hand over her mouth before she could scream, so Louise was left flailing and struggling in the grip of his arms, fruitlessly kicking and thrashing in an attempt to break free. Like before, her efforts were futile, and before long, Roger was hauling the girl away from the safety of the sleeping camp and down towards the dangerous isolation of the beach. She bit at his hand, but the boy only laughed. Her fight vaguely amused him.

Once he felt that they were far enough away from the others, he pushed the girl down into a tangle of dry undergrowth, snarling like a feral beast. Louise whimpered as the thorny bush stuck into her skin, overtaken with a crippling fear for the dark boy before her. He paced up and down, as if innately debating his options, before passing her a dismissive glare. With a huff, he kneeled down beside her and growled.

"Do you know where we are?"

Louise shook her head, incapable of speech. Roger was stoically expressionless.

"You should know. But then again, you've probably forgotten, with Ralph and all. How the hell could you remember _Gracie_ when you're oh-so focused on that blonde poof, huh?"

Something in Louise faltered. At the mere mention of Gracie, her heart nearly stopped, frozen in sudden guilt and apprehension. Oh. She hadn't forgotten. She'd merely been busy fending for herself. And Ralph had nothing to do with it - _Wait_. _How on earth does he know about Ralph_?

There were a thousand things that flooded Louise's mind, and she was pathetically ashamed when the best retort she managed was a quiet, "Don't y-you _dare_ talk about her-"

"I'm not talking about her." Roger grinned now, complacently pleased with himself. "But now that we're on the subject, I must admit, it's a bit of shame that _she _died on the plane, isn't it?"

Roger searched Louise's eyes for tears, saw them leaking down the course of her cheeks, and snickered.

"You miss her?" He asked, leering towards the girl till his hot breath cascaded down on the stretch of skin on her neck. She shivered, withholding quivering sobs, and avoided the burn of his grey eyes, purposely hiding her face within the crinkled leaves of the bush. Annoyed, Roger grunted and and grabbed her chin, forcing her face to his. With a small grin, he tugged her head roughly towards the moist dirt of the forest ground, pressing until she squeezed her eyes shut and yelped in fright.

"I think Gracie's missed _you._"

Roger's voice was sadistically dark, lathered in both lust and sick pleasure. "Look, Lou. Don't want to hurt her feelings, do you?"

He thrust her head down till her nose brushed something hollow and soft. There was an awful stench, like the smell of rotting flesh, and the buzz of flies blared against her ears. Roger's breath was on the back of her neck, shaking in nostalgic delight.

Softly, he moved his lips against her ear and whispered, "Open your eyes, Lou. Gracie wants to play with you."

The pressure of his hand on her chin grew stronger, the edges of his nails drawing blood. Wincing, she peeked through the safe darkness of closed eyes, screaming at the mangled form of putrefied meat before her.

The only thing that hadn't turned black with rot on Gracie was the faint shine of her golden bracelet. Her burned skin was torn and soft with the awful effect of decay, and now, she simply looked like one pulpy chunk of meat, lost of expression or any humane features, for that matter. Gracie was no longer Gracie, but a terribly disgusting thing that should have long ago been properly buried and tended to.

Louise cried, not only for the loss of Gracie, but for the contrite feeling that rose in her heart from consciously neglecting her fallen friend for such pettish things as boys and friends and fire. Tears fell, hot and wet, all on Roger's blunt accord. He had slipped over her, and now his hips made dangerous contact with her backside, eliciting unwarranted groans of pleasure and euphoric fierceness. Both her sobs and his position was thrilling to all of Roger's senses.

As she cried, he moved his hand from her chin to the back of her head, pushing her face down until she was forced to touch the foul body. He bent his lips towards her throat and felt the sheer beauty of her pulse, a pulse that could so easily be interrupted. That vitality, the mere denseness of her value for that little pulse, sent his nerves ablaze. It always had, the idea of life and death. And the blur between the two - the ability to _blur_ the two - Back home, it had been such an obscene idea to _hurt_ someone else and play an act that had previously only been known to God...but now, it was a fancying idea to Roger. A nice idea. A good idea.

Louise still cried.

He ran his tongue across her neck, tasting a certain femininity behind the mask of grime and dirt. When she whimpered, he cackled softly and brushed his forehead against the nape of her neck - an unusually affectionate gesture for the boy. The smell of rotting flesh from below was driving his mind amuck, and the warmth of the girl was only adding to this pounding pressure.

But despite it all, he knew deep inside, she would still rather be with Blondie. With Blondie on the beach, alone and submerged in their own pretty little thoughts of rescue and fire and _normalcy_...

Roger growled. He wasn't like Ralph, not at all. He wasn't blonde or tanned or popular...he was just Roger. Black haired, fair skinned, batty Roger. The boy everyone feared.

"I saw you with him," he said suddenly, nipping at her earlobe. Louise sniffled. Her silence made Roger roar with vexed frustration.

"I saw you on the beach with Ralph - _snogging_."

The sobs stopped, and momentarily, the girl was baffled. "I-I...we...it wasn't...I'm not..._it's wrong_-"

"Is it?" Roger softened his hold on the girl before biting back with doubled ferocity. "I don't want you going near him anymore."

"W-what?"

"Ralph. Ralphie, Ralphie, _Ralphie_." His words leaked with venom, all poisonous jabs to the girl beneath him. "You're not allowed near him."

"Not _allowed_?"

"That's right." A smile curled around the boy's dry lips, revealing a slither of silver teeth. "And if you don't, you'll end up like _her_."

To reiterate his point, Roger forced the girl's head back down on the rotting mass of meat, earning an immediate scream. The dark haired boy laughed before gently pulling her back up, tenderly pressing his lips on the side of her jaw.

"Do you understand?"

Louise brought her gaze to the boy on top of her, then to the decaying body below. Shuddering, she felt her heart ache. She was grieving for Gracie, but now to loose _Ralph_ as well?

She knew Roger would be true to his word. Being with Ralph - being _near_ Ralph would inevitably lead to her own death. And she hated it.

Still, she nodded. Nodded in compliance. Nodded to seal her fate.

Roger smiled contentedly. "Now say it."

"W-what?"

"Say _it_. Say you're mine."

Cold and tired, Louise sighed, shaking with her own sadness. "I'm yours." It was a simple breath, so soft, Roger had to strain to even here the few words uttered. But he did, and the monster within him was appeased, even if Louise was only reluctantly yielding to him.

As a final reminder, Roger turned his head towards her neck and pressed his lips roughly upon the skin, suckling and biting until a purpling little mark was left. He pushed his head in the crook of her shoulder and breathed, smelling her sweet scent and feeling the pure softness about her.

With a smile, the boy whispered, "Good."

* * *

**A/N**: Why do I feel like everything's so awkward. I don't even know. Louise is getting naughty. Tsk tsk.

There's a restaurant in Australia called Lord of the Fries.

Just sharing that.

Also, my brother wrote me a birthday card and signed it from Maurice.

Is he not the best? Something happened the other day and he's like I'M GONNA HAVE A SIMON FREAK OUT. And I was like...*insert 'not bad' Obama meme here* I've taught you well, brother. I've taught you well.

Review? :D

* * *

**FINI ;D**


	7. Thieves

**As always, thank you for your support and reviews...it truly means the world! So sorry for the delay on an update. I'm such a wiener. Lmfao XD**

**Soundtrack: Shine On - James Blunt**

**Disclaimer: **As usual, I don't own anything.

**Note**: I know I said that the rating would change to M in either this chapter or the next, but that may depend on how things go. I made some changes to my outline that altered the line of events a bit - but I promise, it's coming soon. Also, I know that the whole Beast hunt and everything went slightly different in the book, but it was easier to do it this way, so I did :D

**Warning**: Little bit of mature content at the end, but not mature enough to be M rated. So uh, beware if you don't like kissing? This is also my longest chapter yet, but hey, it makes up for my lack of updating. :3

**Welp. Please enjoy ~**

* * *

**Thieves**

"**Close your eyes and they'll all be gone.**

**They can scream and shout that they've been sold out,**

**But it paid for the cloud that we're dancing on**.**"**

* * *

If there was one thing Jack Merridew hated more than losing, it was being outplayed. Perhaps that was why he disliked Ralph so; after all, the blonde seemed to win the affection of the group without even _trying_. Then again, it could've been because Ralph was all around _prettier_ and more _charismatic_ - Ralph was _tall_ and _muscular_ and _blonde_ and everything that Jack always aspired to be. Ralph was the sort of boy Jack's parents would commend, followed shortly by a snarky, "_Jack, you should really focus on being more like __**him**_**, **_tall and handsome and popular_..."

But Jack wasn't like Ralph. Not at all. He could sing, yes, and he always maintained fairly good grades, but he wasn't like _Ralph_. Jack was skinny and freckled and _ugly_. Only a blind man wouldn't be able to see that.

And still, Jack was thoroughly convinced that Ralph hadn't the _slightest_ idea on how to be chief. They were on this island, liberated of nosy adults, free to do as they pleased. Jack wanted to hunt. All the boys wanted to hunt. But now Ralph was absorbed in the fire and rescue and _being nice to Piggy and Louise_.

None of that mattered now. They _were_ going to have fun on this island, with or without Ralph.

Jack was sure of it.

* * *

The sunlight was a bouquet of fiery fingertips upon bleak shade of the clearing. The soft sand was dotted with slumbering bodies, some curled and crumpled, and others sprawled across the ground. Gentle snores and heavy breaths could be heard, filling the quiet air with the certain sound of sleep, a slow reminder that some civility still remained within a large portion of the group.

Tired from his exploits of the previous night, Roger lay sleeping beneath the shade of a palm, face relaxed in the gentleness of sleep. He looked less mad and more handsome in his rest; the sharp nature about his face was lost to the innocence of dreams. And his mind was spilling with said things - memories of his family, the sound of his voice against Jack's back in choir, the island sun on his back, Louise struggling against him on the wicked pallet of damp sand and rough leaves...

Unlike her peaceful hunter, Louise found sleep to be a rare pleasure, more so when her mind was disrupted with the crude images of Gracie's rotting flesh and Roger's sadistic need. She could still feel him pressed against her back, ordering her and forbidding her from going _near_ Ralph. The sound of her voice quivering in compliance to Roger's greedy request still pounded loud and clear in her ears.

Louise couldn't sleep, and she couldn't bear to stand by the camp and sweat as her eyes flitted insistently between Ralph and Roger, Ralph and Roger, slowly contemplating her decision...

Well, it wasn't _her_ decision, really.

Instead, she'd brought it upon herself to try to bathe. At least that way she could feel slightly _less_ dirty and _awful_ and _sinful_ - that's what they did in church, didn't they? Wash away sins with the pure drop of holy water? Louise would try her best, and then maybe the shameful slime that coated her body would simply fall away like dead skin. Somehow, Louise knew that this was impossible. After all, Roger's mark still marred her tanned flesh, and as much as she attempted to scrub it away, it stayed. It was bruise impressed upon her flesh, stubbornly stuck until it faded away. He'd done it so that _everyone_ could see it and _everyone_ would know of her sins.

Apart from the horrendous mark, she found that her own reflection brought her great disdain. Brown curls lay weeping and matted with filth and sand, all stiff with the labor of sweat. Her skin, now imprinted with Roger's purple bite, was still blossomed in fading bruises, as well as dirt and what not. Sad eyes stared up at her from the water, begging, _imploring_ for the quilted safety that home always offered.

The first boys were beginning to wake by the time Louise ventured back towards the clearing. A few littluns dawdled along the shoreline, poking curiously at a dead fish that washed up on the bank. They stared as she walked by, taking in the way she feverishly brushed a hand across her neck, as if she was terribly afraid of their inquisitive stares. They promptly ignored her.

Louise collapsed heavily beside a cluster of still sleeping children, allowing her eyes to pass over the clearing. The ocean breathed life into the sweet morning, usurping the jungle's craze with the soft brush of waves. Life stirred with certain apathy, as if indifferent to the gift of it. More boys woke now, skipping past the girl as if she wasn't there.

Roger still slept, Louise noticed with contempt. It was sad, really. He looked so peaceful in sleep. So utterly unlike the true beast that lay beneath him.

From across the camp, a shadow moved, intriguing Louise's gaze. Her heart slowed, and suddenly, it felt as though there was something caught in her throat. Because when her eyes fell upon Ralph, she realized all at once all the bad and beautiful things about the morning, about the _island_. And when he looked back at her, something in his mind blurred, and mindlessly, he lifted his lips and smiled. Louise looked away, overtaken by the guilt that swelled her chest.

_Not my decision, not my decision...my life was threatened. Not my decision._

She thoughtlessly brushed her fingers past Roger's mark, feeling its burning incineration.

_Not my decision. Not my decision_.

Ralph saw her obvious disposition and mistook it as anger. She couldn't really still be angry about what had happened between them, could she? It was a kiss. A harmless kiss. Something even society considered trivial. He truly hated to see her so upset, and from the way she purposely avoided his gaze, he reckoned that _he_ was the cause of it.

Sighing, he moved towards Louise, ignoring the way she seemed to flinch as he sat down beside her. She looked terrible, almost as if she hadn't slept in days. Her eyes were circled with the heavy bags of exhaustion, and her hand continuously flitted across her neck, like she was terribly ashamed of something. Frowning, Ralph spoke.

"Are you...are you still mad at me?"

Louise shook her head, but still was silent. Her lips twitched as though she was going to speak, but she caught herself and looked away, embarrassed by her hideous crime. Ralph remained oblivious.

"I wish you'd say something."

Louise chewed on her lip, torn between stoically telling Ralph to bugger off or falling into those warm arms and sobbing. Roger was asleep. How would he know any different? And if he _did_ try to harm her, Ralph would stop him, wouldn't he? And everything would be better.

Better.

Louise still kept quiet. Ralph, as expected, grew increasingly frustrated. _Girls_.

"Look." He was being blunt now, tired of the constant back and forth and tedious little mind games. "I understand if you don't want to be like - like _that _with me, but you don't have to ignore me completely. We can still be friends-"

"Ralph!"

Ralph turned at his name, eyebrows furrowed in evident curiosity. Louise moved with him, all the while trying to ignore the guilty thud of her heart. She was swimming with regret and despair, desperately searching for some way to communicate her restricted agreement with Roger to Ralph.

_I don't want to ignore you. But he'll hurt me. He'll hurt me._

He already had hurt her. Everything about this blasted island screamed ironic pain. Louise's thoughts were interrupted by the smug grin of none other than Jack Merridew.

"Morning Ralph," he said, slipping down beside the two. Louise flinched back, slightly appalled by the redhead's presence. Ralph just glared.

"What do you want? Shouldn't you be gathering your hunters?"

"Eh." Jack's icy eyes were glazed in something darker than malice, glinting with the swift glare of the sun. "A couple of the boys were talking about finding the beast."

"Not _this_ again." Ralph brought his fingertips to his forehead, massaging with tired gentleness. "I've already told you that there _is no beast_."

Jack smiled, and Louise shivered. "Maybe not, but _we_ want to make sure anyway."

"_We_?"

"Mhm_." _Jack threw a look to a pack of savage looking boys who stood waiting beside the trim of the forest. "I'll wake Roger and we'll go hunting for it - just to make sure." A devilish grin curled upon the boy's crumpled face. "Thought I'd ask you to go, unless of course, you're too scared."

Louise watched as Ralph irritably wrestled with his golden hair, pushing it back so that the dark cobalt of his eyes shone through. His jaw was set and tightened in exasperated annoyance, so obviously weary of Jack. With a small huff, he pushed himself from the ground and looked toward the group of boys.

"Go ahead and wake Roger. Let's go."

Jack smiled, his eyes finally falling upon Louise.

"If you insist." He drank her in, from the way her dark curls tumbled down across her sunburned shoulders to the slight crease between her brows. Shaking his head, he muttered, "Pitiful." And then he was off.

Louise dearly hoped that Ralph wasn't beginning to fall victim to the beast. It was a stupid, silly fear, just like vampires or fairies or werewolves...

And yet the other boys seemed so keen to prove the beast's existence.

* * *

"I saw it."

The world quivered, exhaling its final shaken breath with fearful anticipation. A shadow moved, and the light swayed with it, dimming to a dull gleam upon the crowded clearing. Children gathered in clusters around the three boys before them, whispering and murmuring with curious enticement to the story they told. Like a parent singing of fabled lands, almost. Like the creaking steps of the ancient haunted house across from their old school.

But the look in their leader's eyes was much too bright to prove fallacy. The usual tamed calmness about Ralph's face was darkened by savage excitement. Jack stood beside him, face flushed with the bittersweet thrill of earning his chief's faith. And then there was Roger, who seemed overcome with neither exhilaration nor fear, but rather a sense of bored apathy. The beast was like a game to him, and although he testified to its existence, it meant almost nothing.

From beside Louise, Piggy shifted, picking at a scratch on his wrist with flustered annoyance.

"Are you sure?"

His words rippled throughout the group, arousing such dubious offense that Jack's face turned red in blistered anger.

"Of _course_ we're sure, Fatty. We saw it. Up on the mountain. Isn't that right, Ralph?"

"It's true," Ralph agreed quietly. "We saw it. It had dark black eyes-"

"-and its jaw unhinged-"

"-There was a gurgling noise-"

"-And teeth like a bear."

Both Ralph and Jack glanced at each other in euphoric delight, swathed in the the exultation of their story. Piggy and Louise glanced at each other, still doubtful of what their chief spoke of.

"And your _positive_ is wasn't just some kind of animal?" Piggy questioned once more, stepping forward to their blonde leader. Louise gulped, glancing feverishly between the glint of Roger's glare to the slight furrow of Piggy's brows. She shifted uncomfortably and nodded along next to her friend, offering at least some kind of support. Ralph noticed with understanding and sighed, moving towards the two with an empathetic sort of sympathy.

"I saw it," he said, gently now. "I saw lurching forward towards us. I know it sounds like rubbish, but it was there." His eyes shone, so obviously vexed at Piggy and Louise's doubts. He pressed on. "_It was there_."

Piggy snorted. "That doesn't even make any sense. There's no explanation or history of _beasts_ and _monsters_, just myths and legends-"

"Legends can be true!" One particularly excited boy exclaimed, earning a short accord of _yeah's_ from his peers.

Piggy grimaced. "Legends are fabrications of the _truth_. There is no _beast_-"

"Why don't we face it?"

The clearing fell silent. Even Ralph, flushed with both confusion and ecstatic allusion, was thrown slightly with surprise. The swarm of bodies were instantly repelled from the owner of the strange words, pulsing away with steady fear. Louise watched with wide, tired eyes as the sole singer of such wisdom stepped precariously close to where Ralph and Jack stood.

Simon spoke once more. "I think we should go back up to the mountain and face it-"

"Bollocks!"

Simon's bright eyes narrowed. "If we could just go and see it, then maybe we could figure this out for sure."

"You've gone mad," Jack sneered, staring at the dark boy in repulsion. "It would mar us."

Simon seemed helpless. "What if there is a beast...but it's just _inside_ us?

"_Inside us_?"

"Simon." Ralph took towards the small boy and considerately touched his shoulder. "It's far too dangerous. We can't risk it."

There was a brief moment of strangled silence, and then Simon hung his head and disappeared back into the mass of sweaty, heated bodies. Louise stared at the poor boy, wanting to speak out, but innately fearing the reaction of the crowd. And of course Jack. Jack would be ever so delighted to make a fool of her in front of the others.

Confident that a conclusion had been drawn, Ralph looked towards his peers and nodded.

"From here on out, the fire has to be our main priority. We _have_ to be rescued." Ralph's blue eyes fell on Jack and the small cluster of hunters that gathered about him. "Jack, I want you to dedicate four hunters instead of two on alternate duties for the fire."

"_Four_?" Jack was aghast. "I can't afford _four_ hunters to be fire duty. I need as many as possible for hunting-"

"Jack-"

"_No_." Angrily, Jack arose beside Ralph and growled, eyes fuming with rage. "You don't hunt. You don't do _anything_. You just stand up here and boss _everyone_ around-"

Ralph raised his hands in an attempt to calm the redhead. "Jack, please-"

"No, Ralph." Jack's eyes were ablaze in fervent enmity. He rushed to turn to his hunters, who all sat perched on the fallen palm with poised anticipation. "He hates us. He thinks we're useless. He thinks his _fire_ is more important than our _hunting_."

"I _don't_ hate anyone," Ralph abruptly said, turning an infuriated eye to Jack. "And _my_ fire means rescue. I _want_ to be rescued. _They _want to be rescued. The only one who doesn't seem to _care _about rescue is you!"

Jack moved back towards Ralph and snarled. "I care about staying _alive_. We need meat to stay alive."

"We have _other_ food to keep us alive-"

"We need to stay _strong_. We need to _hunt_." For a moment, the corner of Jack's mouth pulled up in complacent satisfaction, as if the desperate glint in Ralph's eyes contented him. Oh yes. To see the chief so obviously displaced made him very happy. "Just admit it Ralph. You're not a good chief."

"That's not true!" Ralph's nostrils were flared, and his once relaxed hands were clenched into strained fists. Jack reciprocated the action by thoughtlessly tugging at the corner of his knife, which lay sheathed beneath his rugged belt.

Jack made an animal-like noise and approached Ralph with fury. His fingers had begun to curl around the handle of the knife. "You don't let anyone do anything! All you care about is your stupid fire and your fucking fat friend!"

At this, Louise winced. From beside her, Piggy shivered, shamefully ducking his head so the blush wasn't as apparent. The girl wanted to speak out and say something, but there was a certain fierceness between the blonde and the redhead that dubbed it unacceptable for intervention. So, she bit her tongue and felt for Piggy's hand, threading his fingers with hers and squeezing gently. He looked at her, glasses misty with tears, and smiled. She smiled back.

Ralph's face was colored with the rage of red.

"You don't understand _anything_, Jack!" Ralph drew a breath, all the while meeting his foe's deadly glare. He continued to sputter. "You're irresponsible! You let the fire go out-"

"I apologized-"

"_We could've been rescued_!"

There was only silence. Short, heavy breaths fell from both boys. They were intoxicated with their anger, so utterly consumed by the reciprocated hatred they shared. What was once mutual respect crumbled into mutual disdain.

With a dark gaze, Jack grit his teeth and moved back from Ralph.

"I'm gonna make my own tribe," he muttered, glancing about the baffled crowd. Louder this time, he announced, "I'm making my own tribe for those of you who want to hunt. Bollocks to this! I'll be a better chief!"

The bodies trembled in stunned excitement, switching from Jack's twisted face to the slight gawk upon Ralph's lips.

Jack looked towards Ralph and grunted. "I'll be a _much_ better chief than him! We can have fun! Whaddya say? Who agrees?"

Louise looked around as her heart hammered loud and clear against her chest. Piggy's hand sweated within hers, and already she could feel him growing anxious. Yet no one moved. Not any of the hunters said a word, not even Roger. He just stood stiff and awkward behind Jack, his face masked by the loathsome layer of paint that now flaked off.

Jack's eyes softened. He glanced about once more, desperate for a surge of agreement, but found nothing. He blinked once, as if to rid of any tears, and swallowed thickly, moving about the clearing with clumsy hesitation.

"Fine," the boy mumbled, pushing past the cluster of children. "If anyone changes their mind, I'll be towards the rock on the other side of the island."

It seemed as though only sorrow shook the redhead as he gracelessly headed down the beach, his painted face streaked with the harrowing mark of tears. With that, the smudge of red disappeared from the clearing.

Ralph broke out towards the edge of the group. "Jack!"

But his pleas went unheard. It marked the devastating end of the bitter beginning to a fire that would never truly burn out.

* * *

Roger remembered when his parents first told him that they were sending him away. They purposely forgot to specify for exactly how long Roger would have to leave for, and with this conniving tactic, they somehow coerced him into the train that took him to boarding school. He had been seven at the time. All along, he'd known that there was something deeply wrong with him. Perhaps it was because Mummy refused to take him to the doctor, even after she found the neighbor's cat dead on their porch and Roger's younger brother covered in dark bruises. Perhaps it was because Daddy liked to drink and harm and _beat_ everything and anything out of Roger. Perhaps it was because Roger was like one of those mad people in the Bible, the ones that ran about babbling nonsense until someone cured them of their ailment.

He was never quite sure.

Before carting him off to school, his parents had given him two choices, just to make their decision seem fair. They'd offered to send him away to the school in London _or_, he could simply stay home with them. Those were his choices. Those were the two most _logical _choices _any _parent could give a somewhat stubborn seven-year-old boy. One could say they were reasonably just, and if it had been any other circumstance besides Roger's, he may have agreed.

School was one thing entirely. Roger hated his lessons, even when taught by a tutor locally. He despised arithmetic and grammar and all the stupid things he knew he'd never need. He only really enjoyed reading; his mother would often find him curled up in one of the kitchen cabinets, reading a book they'd explicitly said was inappropriate for him. Said books usually contained gruesome gore or worse, the act of sex. Roger couldn't see why his parents were so shocked to see him so curious about such a deed so young. After all, his father was more than obliged to cruelly strip away his innocence.

This led to the choice of staying home. As much as Roger hated school and teachers and _people_, he hated home more. He hated the large bookcases in the library, and he hated his room, cluttered with miscellaneous junk his mother insisted made him seem more 'normal'. He hated his brother and the old cook who always got onto him for sneaking sugar cubes before dinner. He hated it when his parents threw parties and forced him to play piano, then of course paraded him around to be pinched and cuddled and '_oh my, look how much you've grown'. _He hated it all.

Especially them.

You could say that he found himself caught between Scylla and Charybdis, left to tatters amongst the willing crash of careless waves. And that same dilemma seemed to implore him now.

Roger loathed Ralph with everything he had. Ralph was the very essence of the tribe's demise, the very thing that led them spiraling backwards into Hell. He banned them of their fun and deprived them of basic freedoms, all with the nauseating consent of that pitifully repugnant Piggy. And then _Louise_...

Roger knew that by joining Jack, he would be leaving Louise to Ralph. Not that it particularly mattered. Roger would have her, one way or another, even if it meant stringing Blondie up by the delicate ends of his golden hair. Betraying Jack brought some semblance of emotion to Roger, and there was no way he could force Louise to join Jack without arousing dark suspicion from Ralph or Piggy. Roger was stuck, stuck between loyalty and lust, both two fiercely dangerous emotions.

Roger stared about the beach, watching as a few littluns scattered aimlessly through the tide. Jack would let him do as he pleased. Jack would let him _hurt _andcause _pain_.

Louise would be Roger's, by and by.

His urges could wait.

Without another sound, Roger slipped into the forest and ventured off to find his redheaded companion, smug in satisfaction for his choice.

* * *

Calloused hands brought the fire from the mountain to the center of the clearing. It was, after all, far too dangerous to leave the fire burning so close to the Beast, _if _there was a Beast. Piggy reluctantly succumbed to the belief of the thing, and Louise followed, eager for the civil fighting to cease. Since Jack's departure, everyone had been arguing; the littluns about games, Ralph and Piggy about the Beast, the choirboys about Jack, and even the twins over who helped the most in relocating the fire. The scene was amuck, the voices flailed with tired relent, and everything about _anything_ was muddled and horrid.

An acrid veil seemed to sheathe itself amidst Louise's mind. Her thoughts were poisoned with precariously cynical thoughts; all at once, she was doubting not only the strength of the tribe, but the strength of Ralph as well. As bright and confident as the boy seemed, Jack's absence left a raw void within everyone, Louise included. Not even the brave and beautiful Ralph Adler could keep the tribe bound together.

Louise wandered down the beach, subtly slipping away from the clearing before the arguments rose once more. Dusk set upon the gruesome grey of the island, tainting the golden sand with a shadowed overcast. The waves curdled and spewed heavy, thick foam onto the shore, recoiling at the breath of the wind. Trees swayed and noises played hide and seek beneath the undergrowth of the forest, concealing the dark matter that lay within. Such a dark scene suited such a dark day, Louise thought carelessly. It was strange.

She hadn't seen Roger since noon.

Not that she cared. Better off without him, as Piggy had told her. Better off without him and that Jack, for that matter.

Still, her stomach lurched as she came dangerously close to the edge of the forest. Unconsciously, the girl had begun to wring her hands, fiddling her fingers till it looked almost spastic. She wandered closer to the green edge, watching in scrutiny. All the beasts that lurked in _there_...All the _things_ that went on in _there_...

"Louise!"

Startled, Louise hurriedly glanced back over her shoulder, relieved to see the warm faces of Maurice and Bill. Both boys still wore warpaint and carried dull spears, but smiled at her nevertheless. She returned their kind gesture and waved back, tucking a stubborn piece of hair behind her ear as she moved towards them.

"Where're you off to?" she asked, eyeing the way each boy held the small quantity of their possessions with protective shame. Maurice took a quick glance at his blonde friend, frowning nervously. Bill was quick to stumble upon his words.

"Well we- we...We're in choir-"

"_-were_ in choir," Maurice corrected quietly, clutching his tattered things close. "Now we're hunters."

Bill nodded. "Right. Hunters."

The low tone of Bill's voice detonated something foul within Louise. She turned her head slightly and stared at both the boys, trying fruitlessly to see beneath the paint.

"What does that mean?" she asked, inching closer. Her voice dropped, now almost a whisper, and the boys followed her quieting resonance.

"I've known Jack since I was little," Maurice muttered, shrugging helplessly. "He used to visit my house in Oxford with me in the summer."

"We've _always_ followed Jack." Bill's blue eyes softened, but his jaw seemed to grow hard. There was something cold and detached about his expression. "And Ralph...well..."

"We don't know him like Jack." Maurice had stepped forward for his friend now in an almost desperate attempt to justify their sudden choice. "He's a good chief, but not for _us_. He's a good chief for...for..."

"For you," Bill said suddenly. "And, uh, Simon-"

"-and the twins-"

"-and the littluns."

Louise breathed hard, and already, she could feel the venomous sting of tears at her eyes. First Jack, then Roger, and now the last two strongest boys, aside from Ralph. That rendered Ralph's allegiance practically useless. There was hardly any brawn now, no one to lift and move things when it counted. Despite their association with the choir, Bill and Maurice were good boys. _Kind_ boys. They'd never tried to hurt anyone, and they were always obedient to Ralph.

But that was because Jack had been obedient to Ralph. Now that his loyalty had been cut loose, his dutiful followers were quick to appease him once more.

Louise gulped. "So...you're leaving?"

Maurice cast his gaze towards the sea. "'Fraid so."

"Sorry, Lou."

"But...but..." The girl was speechless. What could she say? Betray the boy you've

known your entire life? Choose Ralph instead? She could only try to meet their sad eyes. "You're not savages," she said firmly, pressing the matter. A snort escaped Bill, and Maurice looked more than amused.

"Savages?" He seemed astounded at such a word. "Louise, it'll still be us. And you and Ralph or whoever can come see us whenever you want."

"That's right," Bill agreed from beside his friend, nodding until his blonde hair waved over his forehead.

And then, the boys were gently pushing past Louise, muttering flustered flurries of goodbyes from behind their shoulders. Louise stood in the sand quivering, consumed with guilt and hate and confusion all at once. Desertion. It hurt worse than the fire that licked at the wind with its putrid veil of smoke. Bill and Maurice disappeared into the forest, someone unwilling to believe of the true demons that were hidden within its green depths. And with them, Louise traced her footsteps back to camp, counting each print that the waves hadn't yet washed away and erased.

She found the camp to barren of any activity, and Piggy wasn't in his usual spot beneath the great palm, so she wandered along the beach, examining the island's glory with speculative inquiry. Simon said that the beast dwelled inside of them, like some sort of inner monster clawing and snarling to be released. She was suddenly reminded of the fiery feeling that unearthed itself when Ralph had touched her, or even bloody _Roger_...

Could it be the very same thing that Simon spoke of?

Was the beast a mere humane instinct, rogue with control and impulsive desire? Could it somberly lay hidden beneath the cleanly shaven morals of society, only to pulse with sudden sway when left to dawdle about? Was it fueled by sin or wrongdoing, as in the partaking of lust?

Louise shook her head.

Stupid thoughts. Gracie always had said that lust didn't count as a true sin anyway - it was only something to persuade young kids like themselves from making utterly stupid mistakes. But it seemed that despite all the church's hammering, Louise was drawn to the bittersweet offense nonetheless, partly because Roger forced it upon her. What did it matter? He was long gone now, absorbed with the entrails of Jack's new enticement. Louise was left by herself at Ralph's camp, which inadvertently left her alone with Ralph. This had not been Roger's intentions of course, but by abandoning Louise, he granted her freedom. For the mean time, at least.

This made Louise boil with glee. Perhaps Jack's leaving wasn't so bad after all. Sure - many of the other boys left, but now only the best and most sophisticated of the bunch were left. Best of all, there was no Roger. No Roger to watch her every step and motive around the clearing. This left room for good things, good things like Ralph and Piggy. Good things like Simon. Good things like fire.

Louise was suddenly filled to the brim with enamored strength. It was then that she noticed a faint sobbing from behind a throng of pale grey rocks. Frowning, the girl tentatively moved forward, unsure whether to dart away or progress towards the unnamed person. She foolishly assumed it to be a littlun crying over home once more, or perhaps one of the twins, but once she scaled across the great belly of the smooth, wet rock, she found it to be neither one.

Instead she found Ralph, curled up against the flat slab of rock, eyes swollen with the embittered mark of tears. He looked out towards the recessing tide, watching in faint distraction as the sea swallowed itself and spouted frothy waves - all a mere afterthought against the backdrop of the darkening sky. The descending sun shone in such a light upon the blonde's skewed features, obscuring the faint softness about his face. His fair hair fell in light waves, rustling slightly with the breeze, and his dark blue eyes were crestfallen and wide. There was something about the way he curled into himself, almost like an insecurity, that tugged at Louise's heart. An abstruse beauty lay coiled deep beneath the heart of vulnerability, an emotion that now snagged and caught at Louise's mind. It made sense now - why Roger picked her to torture. She was weak, vulnerable, _susceptible_.

It sickened her to think that so was Ralph, and in return for this, she was similarly drawn to him. Where Roger wanted to hurt, she wanted to help. So she clambered across the rock, knowing deep in her heart that she was disobeying her predator's demands, and slowly slid down beside the blonde. Roger would have a fit. Louise's heart warmed. She wasn't weak anymore. She wasn't vulnerable. She had a mind of her own.

Ralph noticed her presence and instantly began wiping at his eyes, fisting away the tears with feverish embarrassment. The smear of the salty stain left red marks upon his tanned cheeks, further marred by the snivels that escape his lips. Louise suppressed a mindless smile. Even Ralph had his low points. No one was immune to the island's flushed demise.

Ralph seemed annoyed that Louise had found him. He looked towards the sea

and refused her eyes, grumbling in hurt impatience when she sighed.

"What do you want?" He muttered coldly, so very vexed that she chose _now_ not to ignore him.

Louise took in his darkened features and trembling hands and breathed softly.

"You're upset..." She paused, chewing on her lip in frustrated indignation that she had very minimal knowledge on comforting teenage boys. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Ralph took a quick glance at the girl, his heart crumbling at the saddened purse of her lips and slight furrow of her brow. "Leave me alone."

Louise hadn't spoken to him since that...that _night_, that very night where he'd made the oh-so stupid blunder of kissing the girl. Truth be told, he was hurt with her. It was as if she hadn't cared about him, nor of how he faired, until it suited her. Apparently, that time was now. It was her turn to be the dove to sweep down and embrace the broken. But Ralph didn't need a savior. He needed a friend. Someone he knew wouldn't turn away when he tried to reach out.

And Louise proved incapable of that.

Still, the girl pressed on.

"Ralph," she pleaded gently, her voice a mere breath on the sound of the ocean heaving the tumbling waves back and forth, back and forth. "Please - tell me what's wrong."

Ralph ignored her question and wiped at his eyes again, ridding of the last of his tears that clung to the delicate strands of his eyelashes. "Where are Maurice and Bill?"

Louise's heart fell. Maurice and Bill were the only two choirboys who Ralph seemed to truly trust. They were hardworking for the most part and usually tried their hardest to help Ralph in whatever task seemed to ail him at the time. Out of everyone, they seemed the least likely to leave him. But they had, and now Louise would have to tell him that yet more boys trusted their loyalty in Jack.

The girl drew a breath, listening to the light drum of her heart against the aching hollow of her chest.

"They - they left."

"Where?"

"To...They left to Jack."

"Oh." A shaken breath left the boy, rendering him broken and helpless against the lethally strong effect of the island. Ralph managed to swallow the sobs that cracked in his throat and forced himself to nod in pity. "Everyone's leaving."

"Simon stayed."

A stifled silence pinched its way between the two teenagers. The sound of the breathing ocean swallowed their minds, and the faint rustling from the forest behind them caused them both to shiver in reluctant fear. It was growing dark, and the lines of reality were blurring into a dull pain, like the soothing amber of alcohol on a wretched mind. It sunk in that their dwindling group was the lesser power now, and in a pent of emotion, Ralph's chest heaved with violent sobs. He broke, disregarding his pride and intrepid sense, and let the tears convulse through him. He was graceful, even in his descent, and still Louise found her heart throbbing for the helpless boy before her.

"We're never getting rescued," Ralph choked through his cries, staring out apathetically at the raging sea. "I'm never going to see my brother or my dad or my house-"

"Ralph-"

"We're going to _die_ here because _nobody _cares. I don't even care. I just...I _just_..."

The sobs took control of him again, and the words that strayed upon his tongue were lost amongst the bitter tears. Louise's stomach fell, dark and deep within her pit, and without thinking, she reached out and pulled him close, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and drew him towards her. He struggled fitfully, humiliated by her pity, but she held him until her fingers pressed almost painfully into the soft flesh of his back. His head was bent towards her neck, caught in the soft curve between her shoulder and neck. His body still trembled with sobs, but now they lessened to quiet snivels. Ralph still weakly attempted to struggle away from the girl, but she was relentless in her grasp. Eventually, the blonde grew tired and surrendered to Louise's embrace, quieted by the soft thrum of her heart and sweet warmth of her flushed skin.

Oh. He had forgotten. He'd forgotten how lovely it was to be held and adored, simply enfolded by another. The pure femininity of Louise rose a soft roar within Ralph, reminding him of all the things he'd thought he'd lost. His sanity, for starters. And the simple indulgence of human affection. He'd been so submerged within the beauty of it that he hadn't noticed the soft quivering of Louise's chest. It was then that he realized she too was crying, defenseless against the tremor of the night.

They sat for some while, caught in each other, exerting silent tears. Ralph pressed his cheek into her neck, breathing in her scent, squeezing his eyes shut until he'd convinced himself that he was back in his room, plagued with homework, but too exhausted from rugby to truly care. Louise's hand found the blonde's hair, and soon, her fingers gently threaded in with the soft silk, stroking it back from his damp blue eyes.

Ralph's breath hitched, and slowly, he turned his lips towards the gentle slope of Louise's shoulder, blinking away the fragile tears that stung his eyes.

Softly, he breathed, "Everyone's leaving me."

Louise looked up at him, staring into his sad gaze with unrequited emotion, and whispered back, "I'm not."

At that moment, Ralph lifted his head from her shoulder, watching her with wide, blurry eyes. The remnants of his tears still lingered on the careful curve of his cheeks, and never before had he felt so entirely confused or mistaken about a person. Louise stared back, stripped away of her staged apathy, and all thoughts of Roger's threats disappeared with the tide of the sea. She met his gaze, and he stared back, both lost in a trance that they couldn't quite name.

Ralph reached out to her and gently rested his hand on the nape of her neck, pulling her close to him. She shifted with him until she faced the blonde, heart throbbing and flesh afire with his touch. Blue eyes swirled in thick desire, and as Ralph hesitantly leaned forward, it felt as if the entire world and all their troubles had come to a standstill.

Ralph brought his lips to Louise's and whisper a simple breath, "_Louise_." The warmth of his words cascaded down her spine, and then desperately, she had taken his bottom lip between hers, sucking until the boy groaned with ecstatic delight. Their mouths connected, and where Louise had tried to lead, Ralph instantly consumed her. There was an overbearing fire that flourished between them, burning them both with excruciatingly divine wonder. Ralph grunted and slipped his tongue into her mouth, touching hers with tentative eagerness. She responded with a silent moan, fervently touching the coarse material of the boy's shirt in evident annoyance.

Ralph pulled back and sat in satisfied silence as Louise crawled onto his lap, wrapping both legs around his waist so that she straddled him, and allowed her fingers to loiter on his shirt. It was already ripped and tattered - the emblem of their school was now faded in symbolic debacle. Louise met his eyes momentarily, smiling giddily when she felt his lips upon the base of her neck, enthusing her on. Excitedly, she worked at what buttons remained on his dirtied shirt, her fingers tightening around the material as his body twisted out of the thing, exposing his sun-browned, muscled chest. Her lips were on his flesh in an instant, kissing each gentle indent of his torso with adoration. He moaned beneath her, shivering in euphoric revel when she experimentally dragged her teeth across his soft skin. He tasted like the salt water of the ocean, and to her, it was as sweet as ambrosia. With the boys hands on her shoulders, she timidly allowed her tongue to linger upon his smooth muscles, devoured by the overwhelming fire that burned beneath her.

Ralph blindly felt for her back, and gently, he lifted her back up onto his lap, kissing her forehead lovingly. Slowly, he dragged his lips along her jawline, alighting her skin ablaze with lustful fervor. She held herself close to him, heart exploding into a million slivers of ecstasy when he teasingly ran his tongue across her lips. Frustrated, she kissed him with a sense of urgency, prying his mouth ajar with the soft flesh of her own lips. He graciously complied, all the while gingerly rubbing smooth circles on her shoulders, as if rationing himself with his desires. A strangled groan escaped her throat, and then, his lips were back on her neck, sucking and licking at a particularly sensitive spot. His searing kiss brought her to elation, and if it hadn't have been for the startled way the blonde suddenly pulled back, she would've had a mind to ask for more.

Louise sat on Ralph's lap, body pressed up against the warmth of his bare, burning chest. There was a faintly odd look in the boy's eyes, and only when he scraped a delicate finger along the curve of her neck did Louise realize why.

Roger's mark. It was still there, swollen and purple from where his own lips had bitten the soft flesh of her neck. Ralph seemed confused, having found Louise already marked, and stared in contemplation at the thing.

Louise panicked.

"W-what..." Ralph's eyes skewed, as if he was buried deep in confusion. "Is there someone..._else_?"

"No!" Louise didn't truly understand why it would _matter_ if there was someone else. Ralph hadn't truly made any course of action to make her _his_, anyhow. Unless he already assumed that simply was the way things went.

He was honestly mistaken.

Louise still felt the urgency to explain. "I - no - not intentionally."

"_Intentionally_?"

"It...it's Roger." At this, her voice softened, dampened by the weakness of her claim. She forced herself to cast her gaze else where so she wouldn't have to face the shame fuming in the boy's blue eyes. After a silent breath, she continued. "H-he didn't leave me alone after you told him not to...and...he..._oh_."

Louise was prepared to relinquish her testimony and leave, having already doused whatever flamed curdled between her and Ralph, but the blonde seemed to think otherwise. As she turned to slip from his lap, he caught her arm, grasping it with protective fierceness. The blue in his eyes had dissolved into a darkness shadowed by the tint of envy and outrage, and all at once, the intolerable belligerence of Louise's tale sent a fire soaring within him.

Ralph's tone was deadly flat when he murmured, "_Louise_."

The girl winced, aware of the rage in the boy's turn - not at her, of course, but at Jack's crew in general. She knew that it was not the time to disobey her leader.

So she didn't.

"Ralph," she said softly, grazing the tips of her fingers along the side of his face. His eyes abated in ire. "H-he made me promise not to talk to you."

The blonde was silent and still under her touch, coldly dissipated by the blunt fact of his ignorance. Louise mistook it for anger.

"Ralph, please," she pleaded, softly taking his head with both of her hands. She lifted his face towards her so that their lips were a breath apart, and gently, she stroked back the blonde strands of hair that had fallen into his dark eyes. "-t-that's why I couldn't speak to you this morning. I-I-_he _threatened me."

Ralph's eyes seemed dead. "Louise."

Her heart melted. "I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"_Louise_."

There was an oddly vehement glint in Ralph's eyes. Louise felt the weight of his arms pulling her close. Impulsively, she collapsed into him, soothed by the throbbing pulse beneath his chest. He held her tight now, as if the slightest movement would result in her breakage. It was then Louise realized how fiercely passionate her companion truly was.

"It's my fault," he whispered, resting his forehead against her. She blinked and shifted to accommodate this new position, flushed with relief.

Louise found his dark blue eyes and tilted her head. "No, it's not-"

"I should've kept a better eye on them - on _you_, for that matter." A sigh fell from his lips. "Piggy warned me."

"You did all that you could." The girl paused, and seeing Ralph's doubt, moved into to press her lips against his chin. He hardly suppressed a groan and pulled her closer, clashing their chests with that same unadulterated flame.

Ralph nipped at the soft flesh of her ear as she leaned into him. The flowering within her pit was arising with more viciousness than ever before, slowly leaking into the pool that gathered in heart. Their lips touched once more, and his hands were pressed up against her stomach, slowly but surely drawing delicate patterns up the length of her torso. She made a small noise of delight, and he broke their sweet kiss to finish his work upon her throat. At this slight touch, Louise threw her head back, blinking stupidly up at the dark sky, dotted with shimmering stars. He suckled and kissed, and certainly was not shy about using his teeth, and once his mouth's attack on her skin was finished, a bruise similar to that of Roger's was left. Another mark of sin. Louise felt lust practically radiating from the mark, but still, it made her sickly satisfied to know that Ralph's mark encompassed her throat. And even so, she'd been willing with him.

Unlike Roger.

Ralph gently pulled her head back close, breathing hard and with little grace. He met her swollen, abused lips once more, feeling himself slip away at her sweet taste. Her fingers threaded through his hair, touching the soft silk with softened adoration. When their lips broke and theirs eyes settled on one another, a dark warmth was left flickering between the two.

Ralph softly kissed the tip of her nose and squeezed his eyes shut, enthralled in the wonder of Louise.

"Don't - don't worry about him." His voice was strangely faint, but nonetheless ferocious in fierce possessiveness. "I won't let anything happen to you."

Louise's hand was on his chest, and already, she could feel his thudding heart from beneath her. His heart. Throbbing with life. Beating for her.

Louise looked up at him and smiled, and for the first time in a long while, she felt truly and genuinely content. "I know."

* * *

**A/N: **Forgive my concision issues.

My goodness.

I don't even know what I'm doing.

Future warning: Lots of disturbing stuff coming soon. Not for the faint hearted. BEWARE muahaha.

I'm thinking about making Louise a bit of a masochist. That should spice things sufficiently.

Review? (: (happy easter to those of you who celebrate it:D)


	8. Where the Children Play

**You guys are awesome. Incredibly, awesomely awesome. So uh, I've been having writer's block, so I apologize for the wait.**

**Soundtrack: Asleep - The Smiths (aw yis I've been waiting to use this song for forever)**

**Disclaimer: **I haven't miraculously bought the rights to LotF since the last time I updated, sadly.

**Note**: Uh this is kind of violent and I was conflicted on whether or not I should change the rating up to M. I left it as T, but if you guys think it's crossed into the dark and dangerous realm of mature fiction, let me know (nicely, please), and I'll change it.

**Warning**: Graphic violence. Get ready.

**Here ya go~**

* * *

**Where the Children Play**

"**Sing me to sleep, sing me to sleep, and then leave me alone.**

**Don't try to wake me in the morning, 'cause I will be gone.**

**Don't feel bad for me, I want you to know.**

**Deep in the cell in my heart I will feel so glad to go."**

* * *

The beach was silent.

Apart from the silent trill of the waves, the entire clearing breathed in quiet sighs, somehow relieved by the lessened presence of the hunters. The feigned distraught dissipated into wary acceptance, and now, the small group huddled about the golden sand, staring at the barren area in saddened adherence.

However, the dwindling numbers of their former tribe had not gone unnoticed, Louise thought as she lay beneath the cool shade of a shelter. The tension was thick and strenuous, causing only the slightly rifts amongst the few that remained. Some went about their daily duties as normal, others quietly bickered the contemplation of leaving. As a whole, the feathered picture was awfully awry.

Piggy lay beside Louise, thumbing nervously at the wedged edge of his dirtied, white shirt. A thick amount of dirt accumulated on the soiled thing, but the boy refused to rid of it. As to why, nobody bothered to ask. There were few preferences that some children attempted to keep; some kept their socks, others refused to let go of their ragged caps, and in Louise's case, she tried her best to keep her face clean. At least then people could see her properly.

She felt Piggy fidgeting from beside her and lifted her head in slight amusement.

"Are you troubled?" she asked after a voluntary pause, watching as a smile played on the boy's face.

"_I'm_ not," Piggy replied honestly. "But _he_ is."

He threw a cursory glance at Ralph, who sat talking with the twins. Louise felt abashed at the very mention of the blonde haired boy. Her cheeks were red with the smear of blush, and something within the pit of her stomach curdled and grew, roaring within her. She cleared her throat and quickly looked away, bluffing the indifference of apathy. But Piggy saw through her transparent disguise.

"What's the matter with you two, anyhow?" He asked, pausing to align is chapped lips with moisture. Louise flinched at his words, crushed by his inquisition. Piggy frowned. "You've been acting strange around him - something happen?"

"No." She knew she'd answered too hastily, for Piggy looked no more faithful than she in her sham. Swallowing, she pressed on. "I-I...he's just...he's _stresse_d-"

"Well I know that." A chuckle escaped the boy as if her blatantly obvious statement drove him rogue. "But I mean, he's different with you. You avoid each other. Never speak."

"So?" She was bitter now. Piggy raised an eyebrow.

"I jus' always knew this was a bad place." Sincerity marked what little gloss of his eyes Louise could see. Piggy drew a breath and peeked back over at Ralph, shaking his head solemnly. "We just shouldn't do anything irrational, you know?"

"Irrational?" Louise's throat was dry. Piggy nodded.

"It's a bad place," he repeated. "It seems to turn all the darkness out from us. _All_ of it." Piggy stared at his friend, hoping and wishing for all good and grace upon her. She was innocent. And she deserved to at least retain that. "I just don't want you to do anything that you might regret."

His words stung. They were grave and sickly infuriating, as if to accuse _her_ of such _vile_ things as-

Louise couldn't bring herself to say it. She understood her friend, but her compliance was running thin. Already guilt was web upon her heart. She felt angered and somewhat humiliated, but of course Piggy wouldn't understand. No, no - she was making excuses again. As always.

But Ralph was so fearless, so easy to lose herself within-

"You're right," she said abruptly, turning away from Piggy. "And I promise that I won't do anything I regret."

"Ralph's nice but-"

"What are you trying to say?" She hadn't meant to snap, but Piggy was teetering on the edge of annoyance.

His eyes met her is a shadowed drear of muddled confusion before his lips fell into a frown. "Louise-"

"Forget it." The girl had already arisen, and with her had gone the blithe, light feeling of sincere childish wonder and the beauty of unconcerned impassion.

Piggy sat alone.

* * *

"Where's Simon?"

Sunlight flitted and grazed the tips of knotted brown hair, illuminating the dirt that encased the majority of Louise's drawn face. The twins sat below her, drawing pictures in the muddy grit of wet sand, staring up at her in bafflement. It was rare for Louise to be so demanding or presumptuous, but there she stood, lips set in a thin line of disdain and eyes shadowed in the formidable tale of contempt.

Something was obviously wrong.

Timidly, Sam nudged his brother and struggled for words. "Well, he told Ralph-"

"-that he was goin' up for a walk-"

"-to find the Beast-"

"-of course."

They finished together, blinked together, then gazed at one another in excited wonderment. They'd been speaking in unison since before they could remember, yet every time seemed more profoundly mystical than the last.

Silently impressed and puzzled by their show, Louise felt her stony expression slip away into stunned confusion. To find the Beast? Had Simon gone mad? Then again, Piggy had always said he was batty. Perhaps he was.

Or maybe he was just the smartest of them all.

Louise, disgruntled, collapsed down beside the twins and sighed. It seemed as if Simon was the only boy rationally capable of sifting through the ailments of this strange place. Piggy wouldn't understand it. He'd lecture her and admonish her for partaking in such sinful things, for desecrating the church and spitting upon the civil goblet, laden with innocence and pretty things. Simon would sit and listen and nod his head, because Simon was wittily clever in ways blind to the bare eye.

Maybe that's why he had gone to find the Beast.

Maybe there was no Beast.

Maybe there was no island and no Beast and no Ralph.

Maybe they were dead and this was Hell.

Louise laughed; she couldn't help herself as the chuckles erupted like flames from a torch, scalding her tongue and burning her throat in the thick desire to cackle. The twins stared, torn between laughing dumbly along or moving away from such an obscene sight. After all, it was quite discontenting to see the perpetually sane girl absorbed in the dark depths of batty mirth. Instead of leaving, they stayed and managed to ignore her rant, focusing then on the pattering of footsteps in the background and the sloppy belch of the waves from across the way. It was then that they heard a particularly rugged, boisterous howl. It surprised them to see the painted, lean figure of Jack Merridew walking up the way, followed by two of his more lethal cohorts. Their masks concealed their morbid identities, but the glittering glint in their eyes revealed more than need be.

As stunned as the twins were, Louise was ten fold that, and in a burst of quieted laughter and hideous shock, she fell back and landed in the soft, warm blanket of sand beneath. A pent of laughter swelled from behind her, fresh and raw in its intentions, but it was soon silenced by the roaring shriek of the conch.

Louise sat up at the sound of Ralph's voice.

"What do you want?" The blonde asked, his voice bathed in sarcastic contempt.

Jack smiled. "Nothing, old friend. I'm simply here to invite you to our grand feast!"

As he spoke, his two followers spied the fire and began to move over, grunting in the path of those who stood in the way. The aisle cleared, and the boys swaggered through, glancing at their fellow peers in arrogant distaste.

Ralph paid no attention to the hulking figures of Jack's friends, but averted his eyes to the redhead before him.

"Your grand feast?" he repeated, practically spitting out each deadly syllable as if it were poison on his tongue. "And why on earth would any of _us_ want to come to your silly little party?"

"It's not a silly little party, you dunce," Jack snapped, drawing his spear away from the blonde and staring about the empty clearing. "It's a feast. A feast to decree the glorification of our triumphs." Jack paused, took a cursory glance at his foe, and laughed. "Well, _my_ triumphs."

"There'll be meat." One of Jack's companions-the one with the wild russet hair-spoke from the fire as his partner dipped a stick between the flames. They took the fire in rehearsed and quiet subtleness, as if they were merely borrowing it for the night and returning it in the glossy light of day. The boy continued. "And other food."

"So?" Ralph feigned a lack of interest, but hunger already burned behind his dark blue eyes. Never had he felt so entirely enraptured by the sole word _meat_ or _feast_. And never had his stomach felt so unquenchably empty. The blonde swallowed the lump of thirst that had formed within his throat and shook his head. "W-we have food here."

Jack, unamused by Ralph's pitiful show of confidence, turned away and shrugged. "Suit yourself, Adler. But you're welcome to join us."

As he reunited with his two companions, the redhead glanced back at the still and silent camp, absorbing each and every empty and barren feature that it offered. He caught sight of Louise, who still sat foolishly in the slop of the mud, and smirked.

"Feel free to bring your _friends_, Adler."

And then he was off.

* * *

The clearing was uncannily quiet, save the fierce grumbling of empty bellies and parched, dry groans. Littluns clambered about the shore, aimlessly throwing out stones to the walloping sea, hoping to somehow sustain their growing hunger. Even the older children were distracted by the ravenous fire that burned within their stomachs. It was as if they could _smell_ the meat boiling to a satiating standstill from the other side of the island.

An hour after Jack had made his grand decree, Ralph arose in tired defeat.

"Piggy," he said, ignoring the dazed look that misted his friend's eyes. Piggy had been acting odd since the morning for reasons unbeknown to Ralph.

Piggy nodded. "Yeah?"

"I think - I think we should go over there." He paused and reassessed his statement, found the absurdity, and rephrased. "-to make sure nothing happens, of course."

Stupefied, Piggy waved his hand and followed his friend in silent unison. "Right."

He agreed wholeheartedly that something awful was bound to happen and it was better if Ralph was there to intervene when it did, but was still swayed by the groaning guilt emitting from his stomach.

Louise arose in frantic confusion and glanced squarely at Piggy, somewhat nauseated from the bane look of hunger that melted behind his thick specs. So the island was beginning to take its toll on everyone.

"Piggy," she began, startling the boy. He obviously hadn't been expecting this assertion, for he quickly jumped and gazed up the girl warily.

"Oh, Louise," he gasped through rugged breaths, clutching the breast of his shirt with one sweaty palm. "You - you right frightened me."

Louise, abashed, dumbly drove her stubby big toe into the soft sand and shrugged. "Yeah, well - what's going on?"

"With what?" Piggy was frowning; his eyebrows were bent in muddled bewilderment. Louise felt her face redden.

"You - I mean, Jack - well, _Ralph_."

"Oh," Piggy murmured softly, nodding in sudden understanding. "Well, we - Ralph thinks we should head over." He paused, glanced over the girl, and chewed on his lip indecisively. "I don't think it'd be smart to come, though, Lou."

Louise was taken aback. "Why not?"

Piggy's face darkened, and a blanket of dark greed settled upon the two. "I don't know. I jus' think - well, it'll be a _madhouse_. And you know what Jack's like." At this, his eyes shadowed in pale gloom, and like the waning moon yonder from their small, seemingly safe hearth, they heightened and fell empty in the blitheness of the night. His insinuations caught the girl off guard - but then again, Jack wasn't truly the problem for Louise.

She had much greater things to worry about.

Stubbornly, she crossed her arms over her chest and attempted to look reluctant to comply, but her lips wavered and her face fell in pure exhaustion. Her mother would have called her a good girl for staying behind, yes, her mother wouldn't have wanted her dawdling about with a mess of boys. _Yes_.

Louise swallowed the sore lump in her throat and nodded tiredly, brushing by her friend as she moved silently toward the shelter.

She wasn't that hungry anyway, or so she tried to convince herself. Mother would do the same. Mother would praise her for having such daring intuition, for subsiding from the cruel and trembling grasp of wild boys and laying beneath the cool shade of the shelters. Louise followed her feet, picturing the way her mother's soft brown eyes would melt at the sight of her and, _oh_, she needed a bath and a hairbrush and some _new_ clothes-

Hadn't her uniform been pressed with starch? Long ago it had, or so it seemed. Hadn't Mother taken all her pleated skirts to the cleaners before school? Timothy had gone along, and they'd gotten ice cream afterwards. Louise smiled. Ah yes, she'd gotten strawberry flavored ice cream, but it'd melted down the cone and stained her fingers with sticky, milky residue. She didn't even _like_ strawberry ice cream, but they'd been shock out of chocolate...

"...not coming?"

Louise lifted her head at the sound of Ralph's voice far off in the distance. It was soft, as always, but tainted by hunger - coarse, almost. Her heart thudded like a hammer against wood, throbbing so unbearably fast, she thought it'd burst.

What flavor had Timothy always liked? Louise almost thought she'd forgotten. She could've sworn that it was _he_ who liked strawberry and that's why she'd gotten it in the first place...

"I told her not to." It sounded like Piggy this time, answering obediently back to his chief. Something beneath Louise roared - _no this is stupid, you're not getting your knickers in a knot because of Ralph and Piggy and meat_-

No. Timothy liked _vanilla_. It was her mother who'd persuaded her to feast herself upon the gooey concoction of strawberry...

"Why?" Ralph sounded almost serene, and it made Louise's heart ache. It made her _body_ ache. She'd purposely avoided him once again, simply because she was too afraid of what everyone else would think. And besides - how could she even _look_ at him without wanting to smother those _lips_ with her own, without filling her once unsullied mind with those awfully, _sinfully_ delightful thoughts? How could she even _talk_ to him without sounding like an _idiot_-

Mother had always been right, but she'd been terribly wrong about strawberry ice cream. Louise hated strawberry ice cream, yet the figment of its taste brought back beautiful memories of laughter and sunny days where school uniforms were pressed clean and younger brothers tagged along and _tried_ not to prove bothersome-

Piggy was speaking again, but his words fell like a repellent upon Louise's ears. She curled up beneath a shelter and closed her eyes, purposely envisioning her mother and then Timothy and then strawberry flavored ice cream-

But then Ralph spoke again, a simple word of, _oh yes I suppose you're right oh yes she probably should stay back_, and her mind was usurped with visions of sun browned hands upon sun browned skin, chaste kisses upon dry lips, sand gritting between warm, _tense_ bodies on the ground-

And then the taste of strawberry ice cream faded to that of Ralph, and the image of her mother's soft brown eyes played behind Ralph's, and everything about anything became blonde and blue eyed and impeccably dangerous. Her fingers drifted over Ralph's mark, and then Roger's, and she mindlessly considered all the perfectly pretty things that Ralph had told her.

Soon, Louise finally convinced herself that she was not indeed hungry, and that strawberry ice cream perhaps wasn't such a bad flavor after all.

* * *

It was like a tea party.

Unless, of course, you took in the fact that there was no tea, no party dresses, and no real politeness at all. But it was just as grand as a tea party, and just as fulfilling as a tea party, except it was strangely more satisfying and fun and nobody had to worry about supplying tea.

Roger had never liked tea parties anyway. His parents had thrown a substantial amount throughout the length of his miserable childhood.

At Jack's party, there was fire. The dark expanse of night was swollen with acrid smoke, and the tongues of fire licked up into the air, leaving thick, fuming streams of smoke behind them. It breathed their excitement like a drug, proliferating with each ravenous scream. Boys danced madly and chanted useless little things - Roger was too absorbed in the beauty of this savage behavior to notice. He sat perched beside Jack, staring curiously at the boys below. They were so restlessly wild that it made his heart jump.

No. This was not like a tea party at all. This was _ecstasy_.

Jack, satisfied with his work, snapped orders in such a regal manner that Roger had almost convinced himself Jack truly _was_ royalty. That Ralph had never existed. That everything in the view of their sharp eyes belonged to Jack.

It was then that he noticed Ralph and a clutter of littluns coming up from the long, grey length of the beach. His body tensed, and unconsciously, his fingers tightened along his spear. Prepared to fight, he snarled and nudged his chief, cocking his head to where the blonde now strode clumsily up the beach. Jack looked and his eyes widened; obviously, he had not expected his fiend to be so eager in joining them. But he had, and now Jack was in control. This was his tribe. This was his tea party.

Jack arose, and Roger watched in blatant admiration as the redhead barked one halting order to his subjects and turned his attention to Ralph. The beach was eerily silent, as if the world had stopped breathing, and for one precious moment, nobody moved. The dancing stopped. The chanting stopped. The guileless glides of breath stopped. Even Roger felt his limbs fall still.

Jack was grinning.

"Oh, it's you," he said almost dismissively, earning a short snort from the boys below. "_Chief_. You decided to come to my party!"

It was whimsical, the way Jack could woo a crowd. Even Ralph looked mildly entranced by his strangely radiant charm. At this unwavering silence, Jack took a few steps forward and nodded towards his clan, passing a most appreciative glance at Roger. He then looked back towards Ralph, sizing the few boys he'd brought along. His lips tugged up into a small smile.

"Ah, I see you've brought Fatty." His eyes fell upon the twins. "And the two brats! Splendid!" He looked beyond the littluns for someone in particular, the only thing on the island that wasn't flat chested and hairy, but found nothing.

So Ralph had forgotten the very thing Jack craved most.

Jack's face, concealed safely behind his paint, grew warm in anger.

"I see you left your little _pet_ back at home, hm?" Jack's voice dripped in livid sarcasm; Ralph stood still and strong, unmoved by Jack's obvious disdain.

"If you're referring to _Louise_, then no, I didn't."

Jack's eyes rose in hope before Ralph continued. "She stayed on her own accord. I don't tell her what to do."

From behind the two boys, Roger now slightly leaned towards them, arching his head so he could hear every word emitted from the two. Stayed behind on her own accord? Roger smiled. He was glad to have made such a lasting impact on Louise, but he sorely wished she'd have come along anyway. Even Jack's party would grow dull eventually. Without blood and dirty games, what was there? Half naked boys and fire? Roger was unamused.

Jack, alternatively, was just growing enthused.

"None of that matters, anyhoo," the redhead yelled, feigning indifference. "You're here now, aren't you? Have you decided to join my tribe?"

A few boys from behind Ralph came forward, intrigued by this proposition. Jack grinned, clapping his hands to resume the festivities. His clan grew and rose in excitement once more, dipping about the fire and making a great clatter and thunder of noise. Jack continued over them.

"I'll give you meat!" he cried, gesturing wildly beside the fire where greedy hands now met greasy meat. "I'll give you feasts, just like this! We'll have fun on this island, we'll have a good time!"

More boys from Ralph's small group now clambered to join Jack's, raising their hands and jumping boisterously around him. Ralph's confidence seemed to dim; Jack's only grew like the fire beside them.

"I'll give you whatever you want!"

And then he was lost in the crowd. Everything seem to blur, as if it were a drunken haze, only it was more like their civil reasoning had begun to fade. Roger found himself submerged in the heat of the night; he was screaming and chanting and clawing some poor boy in front of him. Nobody cared; nobody bothered to stop him. They saw it as part of the fun.

Roger even thought he saw a flash of blonde hair and fervent blue eyes - could it be _Ralph_, lost amongst the savage boys? It was only a split second before another boy was dragging Roger away, tugging his hands into the air and yelling something about _batty this is batty_!

All noise was suddenly ousted by the bare, naked cries of the savage chant, one cleverly created and mastered until each boy could say it like the Lord's Prayer. It spilled and ran into the fire, inundating the night and the stars and the water until Roger was sure everyone in everyone country could hear their chant. The noise filled him; _kill the pig, cut her throat, spill her blood_!

He was losing his grip on things; his knuckles whitened under the sheer force of clutching his spear.

_Kill the pig_!

Someone was screaming, but this time, they yelled towards a smudge in the night, a smudge that was descending towards them.

"It's the beast," somebody cried - a voice whom Roger couldn't exactly name. Perhaps it was Ralph. Maybe it was Jack. It could've been anybody, but for all Roger knew, he could already feel the blind sensation of pain prickling its way up towards his heart. Something was going to happen. Something ecstatically good.

Another order, "_KILL IT_!"

And as the smudge grew thicker and clearer, the boys became lost within themselves, lost within the carnal desire to satisfy, to kill. Lost within their natural ambition of sin. The sickly sweet bite of the apple was driving them rogue, and then the smudge was no longer a smudge, but something - something that was breathing and panting and screaming.

Something that Roger realized was not a thing at all, nor a beast, but a person.

Evidently, the others had not been able to see this, and Roger felt disinclined to say anything. Instead, he stuck his spear right between the not-a-beast's chest, twisting until he felt the the wondrous cracking of bones beneath his spear. More sticks met his, and then there was a crashing of hideous movements. Blood spilled out onto the sand, staining the white beach red. Roger caught sight of his victim's frantic gaze - _aw shit, the poor bugger's still alive_. He just smiled and watched as Maurice fitfully pierced his spear into the prey's hands, pinning him down for the others toe bludgeon and beat. In the shivering light of the fire, Roger caught sight of the prey's eyes once more. He recognized them this time as...as..._Simon_?

He didn't want to think of it as Simon, rather as a boy who looked like Simon, so he dug his spear into the-boy-who-was-not-Simon's left eye to rid of the apparition. Soon, he could feel Simon's warm blood trickling to meet his toes, and the fierce giddiness within his heart growled and groaned with satiated approval. Oh _god_ - He thrust his spear into Simon's stomach, meeting the already torn flesh with a small smile. Ten other boys did the same, their muscles straining in the strenuous effort of _stabbing_ and _killing_.

And as quickly as the beast had come, as frighteningly fast as spears had meet dark flesh, the boys dispersed, staring down in disgust at the mess in which they had made.

Simon's body was no longer Simon's body, but a dirty, mass of ripped and blooded flesh that clung desperately to bone. The waves washed out and brushed past the only whole thing that remained of the boy - his dark hair - and then gently pulled him closer, carrying him away from the blood and the brittle night and all its terrors.

One of the littluns gagged and promptly vomited, catching sight of scattered flesh and guts along the bank of the sea. Another threw down his spear, crying out loudly at the blood that coated his hands. Others seemed blankly unsure, as if they were uncertain whether or not it was truly their doing. The rest of the boys murmured quiet things, poorly attempting to convince themselves that it was indeed not Simon but the beast.

It was as if Roger was the only one who was truly content with the night's events. He'd known it was Simon all along, but that hadn't thwarted his fun. He stared down at the bloody ground, then at his sin soiled hands. Roger smiled.

And with that, the tea party was over.

* * *

**A/N**: So I've had a lack of inspiration for this and a sudden burst of creativity for another original fiction. I've kind of been caught up with that. I don't really know when the next update will come, but I promise it'll be up soon! Thank you to all you lovely people that reviewed and/or favorited and followed! xx


	9. Flower in the Snow

**Oh my gosh you guys, we broke 90! I am so thankful for each and every one of you beautiful people! Again, a huge, HUGE thank you to everyone that reviewed/favorited/or followed! I love you all so much!**

**Soundtrack: Broken - Jake Bugg (oh god the feels THE FEELS.)**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything whatsoever because I'm broke and can't afford anything after buying a signed Jake Bugg record and if you know who he is congrats you get a very big gold star sticker to slap right onto your forehead woo. if you don't then what on earth are you doing here go listen

**Note**: nada

**Warning**: rogerness, little bit of violence.

**Have fun**~

* * *

**Flower in the Snow**

"**Down by the people if they let you breathe**

**Don't give a damn if you still can't see,**

**Still my heart beats for you, have become**

**All I love and all I hoped for.**

**But I must carry on**

**Always one**

**Never broken."**

* * *

Somebody was screaming.

Louise felt the stiff muscles of her back loosening in fear, languid and limp from her tired sleep. Her eyes were open in an instant, blinking away what remained from her blurred slumber. Her mind was hardly rested, instead afire with the whimpering tease of exhaustion. The scream sounded once more, piercing the still night with its poisonous wail, and then the world fell quiet once more, breathing in subtle, shivering breaths around her. Something was amiss, whether it was the delicately moist balance in the air or the slight, moving song of the palm branches up ahead. Something wasn't right. Not at all.

The girl fumbled up and blindly felt her away along the weeping shelter. It creaked under the weight of her hands and swayed dangerously, lurching to the left. Louise quickly redistributed herself and stopped, her feet sore from the constant grit of the warm sand beneath her toes. After a moment, her eyes adjusted to the blanket of darkness and she could vaguely see the smeared outline of the shelter, which only stood about half a foot taller than she. Sleepily, she stumbled from the mouth of the shelter and onto the empty, black canvas of the clearing. Nothing stirred; it was barren of sleeping bodies or the smoldering tongues of bright flames. The fire had long burned out, and once more, the awful howl ripped through the quiet slosh of waves and croon of the birds.

Without thinking, Louise blundered towards the forest, sensing its call. Perhaps one of the littluns had been injured. Her hand came into contact with the burly trunk of a tree, and she found herself leaning on it, gasping in strangled breaths. What was she even thinking? Wandering about the forest in hopes of finding that strange _wail_ of a sound? She should be asleep. She should be at _home_. Not in this awful place.

Her sporadic thoughts were interrupted by a vociferous shriek. It was definitely not the same pained, prolonged yowl from before; this one was euphoric, savage, and followed by a pent of uncontrolled laughter. More cackles echoed this, and then there was a great swirl of ululations, inundating the world in a thin shroud of excitement. But this fantastic elation was absent from Louise; her legs trembled from under her, and already her sleep deprived body was falling miserably against her favor. She wrapped her arms along the length of the tree, tucking her head close and squeezing her eyes shut in hopes that the noises would go away.

They didn't.

The laughter grew, followed by the feral howls, and Louise stood dumbfounded as a pair of footsteps crushed through the forest floor. Leaves crunched and bushes quivered, growing more and more exasperated with each coming step. Louise's stomach tightened as her heart thrummed erratically against her chest. She should run. She should definitely run-

But her feet were frozen, and they were so damn _sore_! It seemed as if the only working part of her body was her muddled mind; even her fingers refused to uncoil from their spot on the tree's rough bark. She _needed_ to _leave_! Why weren't her feet moving? Why weren't her arms detaching themselves? Why was_ she_ screaming?

For one quivering moment, the forest was still and silent, engulfed in the placid bravado of the night. A bird from somewhere far off twittered, strumming its beak along the long trunk of a tree. Slightly less tensed, Louise rested her head gently on the bark of the tree and released the breath that had been burning within her lungs. Her sweat slicked fingers slipped from the tree and she felt the warm spell of sleep sinking into her once more.

But her calmness fell away as she felt the hard point of a spear pressed against the back of her neck. She yelped, her arms reaffirming their position around the tree, and groggily went to speak.

"I...I...please..." She wasn't sure which one of them it was, but she could hear soft chuckles flitting from his lips. _Not Ralph_, she decided instantly. As to why the hunters were frolicking about at _this_ hour, she was unsure, but as the spear was further inclined into her flesh, all curious thoughts were ousted from her mind.

"Didn't your parents ever tell you not to come out and play during the _witching_ hour?" a low voice fell against her back, breathing in shallow, short breaths. Louise's heart dropped like a lead bullet, falling against the pit of her stomach with a heavy grapple. She swallowed thickly and fell still - eerily still - stunned by the swiftness in which she was conquered.

"R-Roger?" she whispered tentatively. She felt the spear being lifted from her neck and pressed against her back, and her hunter released a low, grumbling chuckle.

"Hello, dearie," the boy leered, laughing lightly against the warm skin of her neck. His breath tickled the tiny hairs there, forcing each one into a prickling stature. He concluded his cackle by shoving her fiercely against the tree, smiling slightly at the small whimper that fell from her lips. "Miss me?"

Louise could only gulp warily as Roger slowly dragged the tip of the spear down her back, tracing the outline of her protruding spine. He stopped just short of the soft curve of her hips, and with a coy smile, he pressed the length of his body against her back, resting his chin gently on the small crook of her shoulder. The point of his chin pressed painfully into her sore muscles, and the heavy weight of his body draped on hers left her shivering in weary anticipation. She felt his chest rise and fall with feverish, shallow breaths, as if the fervor of his hunt was sending his nerves ablaze. Her skin burned from such intimate contact, and it felt as if all the sleep had been blasted from her mind. For a brief moment, it seemed as though he was going to be gentle, standing there with his body caressing hers, and Louise felt somewhat soothed.

But then she felt his sharp nails slicing into her sides, and all pacified thoughts erupted into a flame of vehement terror.

"It's strange," Roger murmured, tilting his head into the gentle slope of the girl's neck. He could feel her pulse here, and he knew that with every reverberating beat of her heart, fear pounded and coursed through her veins. It was her vulnerable point, her achilles heel. The center of her being. The boy grinned and dipped his head closer and smiled. The elation of the feast still flushed through him like a poison, weighing him down and lifting him closer to ecstasy with every heightening step. "I was just about to come get you."

Squeezing her eyes shut, Louise try to ignore her shaking limbs, which trembled violently under the warmth of Roger's body. _Oh god oh god oh god_...

"S-stop," Louise stammered, her words barely a breath against the cool, night air. "R-Ralph will-"

"Will _what_?" Roger was cackling now, and the dwindling emptiness that often embodied the boy trickled like blood into delight. His fingers tightened around his splintered spear as he grinned. "What will he do, _Lou_? He's not looking for you. He's probably out sobbing like the pansy that he is." The boy paused, momentarily diverted by a pent of self-exaltation and anger. "Jack's a _much_ better chief."

Louise moved her head slightly, trying to divert herself away from the boy that was growing more and more vigorous with every passing moment. She didn't want to _hear_ about Jack or Ralph or _anybody_. She just wanted to be back beneath the cool denseness of the shelter, burdened only by the dark veil of sleep. At the slight movement of her head, Roger felt his stomach lift, and almost instinctively, he was passing his dry lips over the vulnerable flesh of her neck. The girl jumped at the sudden wet contact, falling backwards into his awaiting arms. The spear was discarded of and tossed carelessly to the side as Roger's hands busied themselves at steadying his prey, gripping her hips and pulling her close. Her stiff fingers left the bark of the tree, and almost immediately, she was struggling in Roger's fierce grip. Her legs moved wildly from under her, and she squirmed and fought as hard as any girl her size could do. But Louise had never been strong; always the slightly ill-looking one back home, and her furtive size would prove her no justice here either.

"Shh, shh," Roger crooned quietly, his words tainted by broken breaths. He could feel his heart throbbing beneath him, already feverish from the feast's events. Simon's blood was still warm on his hands, and the thrill of the kill lurked deep beneath his bones. But his fun wouldn't stop there.

Roger grunted impatiently and forced Louise on the ground, quickly climbing atop both her flailing legs. It was dark, but the dim, eerie glow from the wide moon above was all Roger needed to catch the look pure fear radiating from his prey. Her eyes were wide, and the cut that he had made so many weeks ago still remained as a healing scab. The dark boy smiled and carefully reached out, simpering softly when she flinched away. Gently, he brushed his finger along his delicate handiwork; it was the first slice he'd ever made on this beautiful island. It was the first insignia of his work. And it was healing rather nicely.

His eyes passed over the scab and then to her frenzied, wild eyes. He stared for a moment, absorbed in the quiet beauty of them, even though he found no true beauty about them at all. It was what he saw in them: fear, baleful terror, apprehension..._that_'_s_ where Roger found beauty. In trepidation.

The boy blinked, and then it began to happen again; soft sobs fell from the girl below. He could feel her chest shake with them. Roger's heart constricted, not in pity or remorse, but rather elated anticipation. Slowly and with menacing purpose, Roger bent his head and brushed her lips with his own, parting them with the gentle touch of his tongue. It felt natural now, the way he moved his lips against hers. It felt like he had done it his entire life.

Louise remained unresponsive; the tears slipped down, warm and hot, and her lips trembled beneath his. He bit her lip with his sharp teeth, hoping to arouse a reaction, and shivered in ecstasy when he broke the delicate flesh. Warm blood rushed out and tainted their lips, coating their kiss in a rusty, sinful flavor. The boy moaned and kissed her more passionately, dipping his head and nipping playfully at her skin. The warm taste of blood percolated Louise's senses, and slowly, her stiff muscles began to slacken in their rigid stature. Her limbs melted softly against his, and the warmth from his bare chest emanated through the thin, white cotton of her dirtied blouse. His lips were surprisingly soft - rough and assertive, but soft, as if her kiss touched them in the gentlest of ways.

She opened her dark blue eyes for the first time, blinking until the small spurts of fog spattered away. And Louise saw _him_, stormy eyes staring from above her, as he greedily attacked the side of her jaw. She was absorbed his features, taking in the slight part of his matted, ebony hair, and the slender, subtle curves of his jaw, then his nose, then each individual eyelash which was illuminated by the naked light of the moon...

Louise felt Roger's head back at the slight indent of her shoulder. She surprised herself when she felt her muscles relaxing at the uncannily affectionate gesture, but froze back into tautened fear when his teeth scraped her skin, biting down with brutal pleasure. The skin broke; blood trickled down, staining her tanned skin with crimson watery beads. Tears glistened from her eyes, but they did not fall. Strangely enough, Louise found that the pain, although uncomfortable, was at least _bearable_, and was oddly..._nice_?

The girl squirmed somewhat giddily when Roger's left another warm, wet kiss on her neck, most likely in the same place he had marked her before. It was dark, much too dark to see the marks, which left Ralph's safely concealed and protected from her attacker's scrutinizing gaze. He bit softly, as if experimenting, and grunted at the vital beat of her heart. Alive. Here. Beating because he dared not take it away.

Roger made a trail of sloppy, drunken kisses back to her mouth, groaning softly when he felt her quick breaths beneath him. His hands scratched at her bare arms, leaving angry, raised flesh behind. He crushed his lips on hers, selfishly wanting more, completely and utterly indulging in his own sense of nostalgia. He pried her dry lips apart, gently licking the remnants of blood before assaulting her mouth. He waited for the sobs. He waited for the moment where he would have to force her into compliance. He waited for her lips to become as stiff as boards and incredibly, _irritably_ unresponsive.

But instead, he felt her moving her own lips against his, reciprocating his kiss for what seemed like the first time. She took his upper lip between her own, moaning softly as he scratched away at her skin, feverish and somewhat confused at what to do and how to handle her enthusiasm. Her limbs were no longer still, but instead moved against his; she intertwined her legs about his own, and her fingers were suddenly making smooth, soft circles along his bare back, savoring the feel of his unscathed and youthful skin. The flaking paint crumbled into beneath her touch, as if she were cleansing him of everything that was bad. In truth, she was egging him on, imploring him not to stop. So when Roger pulled away, when his lips abruptly left her own and his hands returned to the gritty ground on either side of her body, Louise felt her heart aching. She was confused, elated, and terribly, _sickeningly_ disgusted with herself.

Roger looked just as curious and bewildered as she. He stared down at her, head cocked slightly to the side, as he licked what remained of her blood from his wet lips. They sat in silence for a moment, each befuddled by the other's odd behavior. Then Roger reached for his spear, still straddling the girl, and passed his sadistically amused gaze back over her fuming eyes.

"Well then," he began, passing the spear between his hands. "I didn't think you would _like_ that so much."

Louise didn't speak; she couldn't. Her lips were ablaze from where he'd kissed them, a feeling she'd only ever gotten with Ralph. _Ralph_. He'd be livid if he found out.

Roger paid no heed to the trembling girl below him and instead fixed his gaze upon his spear.

"It's alright," he said, almost gently. Soothingly. His grey eyes flickered up from the spear and met hers. "It's alright to enjoy _it_, I mean."

Louise's words were barely a breath when she whispered, "No, it's not."

Roger chuckled, somewhat amused. "It's alright to like pain. I do."

"I'm not _like_ you -"

"Oh really?" A small smirk tugged at Roger's lips, and with a curt nod, he brought the sharpened tip of the spear to the fragile girl's chin. With an artisan's care, he traced one, steady line down her neck, stifling the urge to lick the blood that followed. Louise moved, flinching from below him. It _hurt_. He was slicing her skin open. But...but...

The girl moaned. Roger grinned, eyes so bright that even the moon looked pasty pale behind them.

"Toldja."

Louise felt his warms lips against the slippery crimson liquid on her neck, and almost immediately, her skin was alight in euphoric flame. She felt him release his grip on her arms, and the once flailing limbs returned to Roger's shoulders, squeezing and trembling as he made dangerously beautiful patterns with the tip of his tongue on her flesh. Her fingernails pressed into his skin, finding it hard with the work and wear of the sun. The boy growled softly and passed his mouth along the blood on her neck, tainting his tongue with its sinful flavor. He very much enjoyed it.

Overwhelmed with the feeling of exultant success, Roger grazed the girl's swollen lips one last time, allowing himself to share the taste of blood. She seemed reluctant when he pulled away, then terribly befuddled as he sternly took her wrist within his hand. The boy fumbled for his spear in the the blind darkness, found it, and grappled with Louise until they were both standing up.

Louise was far too confused to oppose him, and when she felt his spear pressing in the small of her back, she could hardly emit a gasp. Roger wasn't laughing anymore; the thrill of his night was slowly leaking away, fading into a greedily possessive daze. Simon had been his kill, yes, but Simon was gone. He was never coming back, not that Roger truly cared. It simply meant that he could never go back and relive that moment of exaltation as he pierced his spear down into a mess of writhing body and warm guts and blood. That was over. But Louise...he could savor her. He could keep her and revive the utter rawness of the memory..._this_ memory; having the girl pinned to the forest floor, weak underneath his grasp, but disgustingly willing all the same.

He'd never had a girl that had been willing to kiss him. And just like any other good hunter, Roger wanted to keep his prize.

Louise had begun to struggle, suddenly awoken from the sleepy, warm hum of the night.

"W-where are we -"

"Shut up."

Louise swallowed the thick lump that had accumulated in her throat, right beneath the place where Roger had left his second mark. "I-I...I want to go back now."

Roger sniggered and pulled her through the dense, thorny foliage.

When he continued to ignore her, Louise attempted to twist her arm away from his, but he only held her tighter. Her face felt warm, and the threadbare sheet of confidence she'd managed to convey to her attacker was quickly wearing away. Finally, she succumbed to the fact that she was stuck and wearily began to pray that Ralph or Piggy or someone could hear if she screamed. At second thought, she decided against it and stayed silent, choosing instead to appease her hunter and earn no more casualties. It was a good while before they finally reached a shroud of jagged rocks, and with careful footsteps, Roger pulled her up, leading her to the flat clearing that lay amongst the clatter of boulders. The ground was cold and littered with the remains of what little civilization clung to Jack's crew; an old choir cap, a striped tie, a rugged jacket that once read "JAMISON #8". She vaguely wondered who Jamison was, soon forgot, and was abruptly consumed by a gnawing fear. A figure was looming above the pair, and after a blunt nod from Roger, crept down to meet them. At a closer look, Louise found that the figure was none other than Bill, a boy she once knew and occasionally would talk to.

Bill had lost most of his clothing, save a tiny shroud that hung over his wide waist. His blue eyes glinted in the light, glancing appraisingly at Louise and then at Roger.

"Roger?" he asked affirmatively.

"Where's Jack?" Roger drawled flatly, blatantly ignoring his comrade's inquiry. There was a sense of supremacy that followed, and instantly, Bill gave way to his superior.

" 'Round the back, by the cave. He's by himself. I don't think he wants-"

Roger shoved Bill out of the way, despite being a good two inches shorter, and impatiently pulled Louise behind him. Bill smiled uncertainly at the girl, both pitying and awing her sense of tamed silence. Louise couldn't smile back; after all, he'd betrayed Ralph.

_She'd_ betrayed Ralph, now.

Louise's heart thudded like a gavel as they neared the gloomy cave. The world became quieter; the waves shuddered in a slurping mess from below, but Roger's warm hand never faltered. It was a strange sort of comfort, having him leading her, knowing that he was there. At the same time, it was incredibly intimidating.

They reached the large gaping mouth of the cave and Roger called out, hesitantly at first, and then all wavering unsureness diminished. He tapped on the cave wall and yelled Jack's name. Immediately, a shadow emerged, and the shadow soon bled into the image of a boy, a boy with wild, savage eyes and crazed, long hair. He carried a spear, raised it momentarily until he recognized Roger. Then he subsided and relaxed.

"Rog," he began, nodding. "I thought you were out with Maurice."

"I was." Roger sounded smugly content. "But then I went hunting."

"At _night_?" Jack feigned apprehension and scoffed, leaning against the cave wall so that his slim body was a tinted white strip against the darkness of the night. "Did you catch anything?"

Louise, who was shielded safely behind Roger, felt the boy's fingers tighten once more on her wrist. Why couldn't he just keep his _bloody_ mouth _shut_ about everything and accept her own humiliation as his triumph? Why did he have to do _this_?

"I did, actually." With a slight tug, Roger pulled Louise out in front of him, smiling in admiration at his game. Jack looked completely and utterly astounded.

"What..." The redhead moved closer, as if to inspect the girl. He grew more curiously intrigued, then greedily excited. "Did you go to their camp?"

"I found her," Roger said and left it at that. He'd released her arm now, to Louise's dismay, and left her vulnerable to Jack's greedy hands. The redhead passed his wondrous gaze on the blurry outline of the girl, faded with the darkness. He could make out her shivering form, the slight trembling of her head as she flinched away when he drew closer. He smiled contently, met his hunter's gaze, and beckoned them within his cave.

"Call for one of the others," Jack ordered, watching as a slight crease formed between Roger's eyes. "I want them to make a fire."

The dark haired boy nodded and reluctantly left to find Bill, who was still drearily at his post. Louise still wandered nervously by the cave's entrance, enveloped with the veil of darkness that night so generously provided. She could hear Jack lurking nearby; his footsteps echoed in the blear emptiness of the hollow cave. Finally, Roger returned with Bill, who carried a small kindling of wood. Roger held a smoldering branch from the fire from their feast in his hands, and with a shrug, he turned to Jack.

"That's all the fire that was left. Rest of it's burned out."

Bill set to work on alighting the small hearth and left when his task was completed. No further questions were asked of him. Now the small cave was illuminated in the eerie glow of orange light. It bathed the walls and the three adolescents that stood a fair distance from each other; Roger was dawdling by the fire, Jack towards the back, and Louise still at the front, contemplating her chances of bolting away.

Then Jack spoke.

"Roger has so graciously brought me this _gift_," he announced regally, as if to an audience. Roger was unfazed by his statement and continued to bite at a fingernail. Louise, alternatively, had paled and now gripped the sharp corners of the wall for support. Her legs quivered in such a fury, she knew she'd fall without any aid.

Jack smiled; like Roger, his body was splattered in random amounts of dark crimson, and there was an evident amount of wild ferocity behind his painted gaze.

"But now, dear _Louise_, that's not what you want, is it? You want to go back to Ralphy, I'm sure. Because _he lets you fucking decide which parties you get to go to_. Isn't that right?"

Louise shook her head, then found herself nodding; her mind was lost between babbling excerpts of snarky responses and the fluttering edges of hysteria. She didn't know _what_ to say.

"I-I just want -"

"I don't fucking _care_ what you want," Jack snapped flatly, edging closer to Roger. "_He _can't have you anymore. He can't have anything anymore!" Now Jack was shouting; his freckled face was puckered with exasperation, flushed and red. Roger glanced up, shook his head hair out, and resumed his activities.

Louise could already feel tears stinging past her eyes. Jack was smiling madly at her as he moved past Roger and towards the girl, his knife concealed within his belt.

"Do you _know_ what I'm going to do to you?" Jack asked, moving so that he was pressed up against Louise. His bony bony felt thin and unnatural on hers, so utterly unlike the forceful grasp of Roger or gentle embrace of Ralph. Louise turned her head, dodging his acrid breath, but felt it fall like acid on her flesh.

Jack's laughter cascaded down the bumpy, shallow side of the wall. It was followed by silence. Soft tears erupted from Louise; she felt them shake through her already trembling body. Her frame was failing her, she was falling inept to defense, and instead felt trapped and cornered by the demon with blue eyes.

Louise felt Jack's fingers upon the scratched, flared skin of her neck.

"Roger's readied you," Jack muttered, catching Louise's helpless stare at her former hunter. Jack ground his hip against Louise's thigh and groaned, forcing himself to continue. "So how prepared _are _you? Has Ralph fucked you yet?"

A labored sob fell forth from Louise, disgusted with deeds which were not yet her own. That foul word, that _dirty_, awful word described none of which she had done. But there were things, things she felt, things that led her to believe she was in part just as guilty as Jack in his desires.

After a moment of pressed silence, Jack snorted. "He hasn't got the nerve, that fucking pansy. But you'll learn, I suppose, how _nice_ boys can really be.

The fire cackled and grew with its unassuming glee, licking up to touch the tendrils of the night with its glow of guilt. All was quiet; nobody moved. Louise found her eyes dry of tears, parched from the silent shock that overtook her quaking her nerves. Her heart ached. Her mind sputtered. Nothing made sense.

Louise's legs wobbled dangerously, and slowly, she slid down the length of the wall and fell to her knees, unable to cry, unable to speak. Her throat was momentarily paralyzed, and she was left in a catatonic state of horror.

Jack's hand gripped her chin, and almost immediately he was sputtering in repulse, "Don't _cry_, you dirty little swine. It makes you look _awful_."

Louise couldn't stop; the hot tears spilled from her eyes and washed down her ashen face, inundating what little dignity she possessed in filthy shame. The boys watched, partially interested by her show of emotion, but quickly grew tired. Louise felt the stinging print of Jack's hand slapping against her face in an instant, and before long, he was on top of her, groping her torso and slobbering along her jaw. Louise clawed at him, proving more of a fight than she assumed capable, but Jack was stronger. He pressed himself into her, groaning into her tear streaked skin, then plunged his tongue deep within her mouth. The girl screamed and the world fell still.

Jack reluctantly withdrew, glaring at the small creature before him in apathetic impatience.

"I'll have my way with you tomorrow," he muttered bitterly, eyes consumed in lustful desire. He scoped over the girl, passing over her imperfections and focusing solely on her small curves and subtle slopes. The very thing that drove him rogue with dreams and imaginings, tastes and sights, and the _fear_...

Jack licked his lips and looked back over at Roger, who sat almost dumbly by the fire, eyes ablaze in neither jealously nor anger, instead in a fuming darkness that seemed to compel the night away.

"Tie her up," Jack ordered carelessly. "Then meet me by Bill's post. I'm going to find Maurice. We need fire, and so we'll have fire. I presume that little Piggy should be back home by now."

Jack's mad laughter resonated through the cave, but then, with one last wink at his prey, he left, as did his mirth. Then it was just Louise and Roger, swimming in their own strangled silence, until Roger finally sighed and reached for a dirtied creeper. Louise stared in stunned silence at the thing, wondering what on earth they would need it for. Roger caught her eyes and shook his head.

"For the pig," he said quietly, slowly moving towards her. It was strange. He seemed drained and tired, as if the night's exploits had left him more hollow than before. Where excitement seethed, indifference grew, and with each soft breath came a darker look than before. He crouched down beside Louise and brushed his hair from his eyes, ignoring the look of curiosity the girl conveyed. Her head was slightly tilted, her eyes fixed on the large, bloodied hands that worked knots out of the creeper. They moved in such a way that reminded her of another boy who fastened bandages out of cloth.

_Ralph_.

It was odd to think that such a hostile creature could be as gentle as Ralph, but the more Louise watched Roger's careful hands, the more entranced she became. She heard the small breath of air he exerted upon finishing, and with a solemn gaze, he reached for her hands. But something stopped him..._she had to see_...

Louise's palm was against Roger's chest, feeling blindly for a pulse she half expected not to find. He didn't _act_ human. She'd nearly convinced herself that he _wasn't_ human. But ah - there, she found it - the small hum of a heartbeat, the proof of a pulse. Roger seemed awfully confused, but dared not to move, and slowly, Louise met his baffled gaze with wide, dark eyes. His heart quickened under her hand, arousing a stir of emotion within the girl. Dark eyes were on dark eyes, melting in unclaimed curiosity for the other. Louise gently removed her hand from his warm flesh and found that it was met instantly by his own. He pressed his hand to hers, examining his findings with clear inquisitiveness. His fingers were longer than hers - thinner, too, and where her nails were at least somewhat long, his were bitten down right to the quick.

They stayed that way for a moment, hands frozen against each other, hearts beating in unrequited unison. It felt as if the moment was fragile, so fragile, one reckless blunder would send it sprawling into tatters. Roger was calm; for once, he felt at ease. More so at the fact that she was at ease with him. Their fingers laced, gently at first, as if the both of them were experimenting with such infinitely peculiar affection.

A call from the other side rock shattered the frozen moment. Startled, Roger withdrew his slender hand and fastened his fingers upon the long creeper, snatching Louise's wrist and forcing them together. She yelped, but stayed reasonably quiet as he bound her hands and then her feet together. The call sounded again, and Roger arose in frustrated gusto. He took one brief, panicked look at Louise, drawing in every tilt, valley, and curve of her glowing features.

And then he was gone.

It took Louise a moment before she realized that she never did find out who was screaming earlier on.

* * *

The sound of shouts crept into the realm of sleep and awoke Louise with a jolt. The fire in the cave had long since burned out, and now dusty light filtered through the gawking cave entrance, swathing each dented rock and sloping arch in sweet morning light. Exhausted and weary, Louise looked to her bound limbs, regarding them in vexed annoyance. They were tight, almost too tight, and felt as if they were rubbing into her skin. There were a few bloodied spears cluttered about, but with that aside, the cave was empty. Louise vaguely wandered why, but then she heard the shout again.

"...we came back for Piggy's glasses. And Louise! We know you have her, and it's not right!"

Louise sat up right, fumbling with her restraints. It couldn't be...how..._it was Ralph_. But that would mean...

"Ralph's right! You can't just go taking _things_ or _people_ whenever you please!"

_Piggy_. Louise blundered clumsily, twisting so that she was able to move, and inched her way out from the cocoon of the cave. She wasn't sure _what_ she was thinking, just that Ralph and Piggy had come and she would get to _leave_. All remembrance of her brief moment with Roger was expelled from her mind, and as she wriggled her way up by where the rocks were, she could hardly contain the grin that stretched across her face.

The other hunters speckled Castle Rock. Roger was close to where Bill had been last night, and Ralph, Samneric, and Piggy were down below by the cliff's edge. At the mere sight of her two dearest friends and the twins, Louise's heart lurched and her mind swayed. Although her belly was empty and her throat was parched, she'd never felt so insanely satisfied in her entire life. It was the bleak chance of rescue, whether it be from Castle Rock or the island itself, that kindled her spirits.

Jack had emerged from behind the rocks.

"What do you want?" He sneered, lifting his spear so that it was level with Ralph's neck.

Ralph scoffed. "You know good and well why I'm here! You stole Piggy's glasses, and you kidnapped Louise!"

"And what are you going to do about it?" Jack yelled, his red hair ablaze in the flare of the morning light. His icy eyes held none of their former teasing glint; now they shone in a different apparition. His cracking face paint gave him the faint appearance of some sort of of peeling painting, aglow in neither mischief nor impishness but instead in enmity.

Ralph took one daring step forward, abandoning Piggy and the conch. Louise's heart came to a halting standstill as her friend squealed, "Ralph! Don't leave me!"

The girl watched in weary disposition as the golden haired boy moved towards Jack, placing his careful footing along the jagged side of the rock. Everything in her froze. Ralph seemed utterly and completely vulnerable, and it made her want to scream.

"You pinched Piggy's specs," Ralph shouted, earning a great clamor from above. "He can't see without them! You've got to give them back!"

"Got to?" Jack seemed slightly amused; he leaned on his spear and smiled jeeringly at his foe. "Says who? Mumsies isn't here to make me."

"I say!" Ralph declared, his face shading from bronzed to red in a single instant. "You all voted me for chief, and I say that you've got to give Piggy's specs back! And you can't take people against their will!"

Jack snorted, glancing cockily at his cohorts. "What? Are you referring to Louise?"

"_Yes_, I _am_ referring to Louise," Ralph replied flatly, brushing a stubborn tuft of blonde hair from his eyes. "You can't force her to come over here! You can't _treat_ people that way!"

"Oh really?" Jack regarded a quick look at two bleary eyed patrons and snapped, "You two! Get the twins! Tie them up!"

Before Ralph could protest, the flailing limbs of the twins had been bound in a similar rope to Louise's. They were tossed aside and greeted with a glorious cheer. It faded and swelled until the noise burst at the brim, slewing the world below in hideous excitement.

Ralph was seething.

"You're a liar!" He cried, pointing one accusative finger at Jack. "You're a liar and a bloody, _bloody_ thief!"

"Say that again!" Jack bared his dirty teeth at the blonde, readying his spear in his chaffed, grimy hands. "Say that _again_!"

"You could've asked for fire! But you stole his glasses and you took _her_ against her own bloody will! _You're a thief_!"

Jack erupted. His freckled fist met Ralph's shoulder blade, and before the onlooking crowd had time to process the event, both boys were scrawling on the floor. They toppled over, scratching and clawing and doing their best to injure the other. Ralph swung out again; his knuckles connected with Jack's jaw. The boys egged them on, screeching to _knock the shit out of him Jack_..._show 'im who's chief...c'mon Jack_!

Louise gazed on, horrified at the slight possibility that Ralph would lose. _And what then_? What of Piggy, or the twins? What of _any _of it? Her eyes passed back over Roger, who looked utterly and completely engrossed with the fight. He rested against a large boulder, his spear close at hand, and every once and a while he'd smile at Jack's triumph. Louise gulped. He _wasn't_ human. Ralph was human. Ralph wanted rescue. Ralph wanted to go home. Ralph understood that this place was _bad_.

Roger did not.

Both Jack and Ralph heaved with heavy breaths, countering the other aggressive beckoning. It seemed as though their fight would run on forever, but then a quiet voice from below stirred them from their pointless scrimmage.

"Let me speak!" Piggy held the conch high above his head, staring at the glittering instrument in awed reverence. Ralph broke away from Jack, moving his muscles as if to ease them. Jack mimicked his motions, but not half as well, as though he was highly unpracticed with fighting.

At their silence, Piggy drew the conch to his breast and spoke. "Don't you see what you've become? You're acting like a crowd of kids!" A single rock whizzed down and shuddered past Piggy's shoulder, barely grazing his neck. Piggy didn't seem to notice, and the small stone would have been neglected had it not been three others that followed. Louise could feel her heart throbbing beneath her chest. Piggy was her friend. He was fighting for her. The sight of the once shy boy growing in courage made her smile, and quietly, she observed on, her lips set slightly apart as though she was distantly unaware of the terrors to ensue.

She pretended not to notice the rocks that now rained down in a steady beat on the ground Piggy.

"Which is better," Piggy proposed, facing his audience like a well-rehearsed lector. "- to have rules and to agree, or to hunt and to kill?" The response was unified; the throng of boys laughed, watching Piggy as if he was a littlun. Louise blinked, hoping to blur the glare of the sun from her eyes. Another rock fell, missed the boy, and left Louise feeling more anxious that before. Her fingers curled tightly within her bonds, and suddenly, everything about her ached.

Piggy ignored the laughter and continued. "Which is better, law and rescue, or hunting and breaking things up?" The noise rose and bulged again. Ralph attempted to shout over the ever growing commotion, but his screams were met with the equal vivacious shrieks of Jack. The hunters cried in accord with their leader, heated in the pursuit of such dangerous inequity. Louise bit her lip and glanced toward the howling boys, noticing for the first time Roger's infatuation with the rock he once leaned on. He'd slowly and subtly jarred his spear beneath it, and now he glanced from the boys to Ralph to Jack, and finally his dark grey eyes landed upon Piggy. Louise furrowed her eyebrows and frowned, confused at his motives, and feeling a great deal of confidence, slowly moved from her concealed spot beneath the shaded rocks towards the open platform where the boys sat. She shuffled hesitantly, hoping not to gain their attention, and focused now on the dark haired boy and his rock.

Piggy still spoke from down below. "We've got to listen to Ralph!"

Roger wriggled his spear under the rock, shifting the thing in scattered, broken shudders. His muscles glistened with the strain of the motion, and the tip of his pink tongue lodged itself between his dry lips. Louise felt her breath escape her, and with one brief look below, she saw Ralph and Piggy, unprotected by anything other than the flesh on their backs and the shimmering conch.

The shouting flared. Roger's arms were suddenly relieved as the rock lurched forward in one groaning movement.

Louise's eyes widened. Her heart came to jolting standstill. Her lips moved and managed to scream Ralph's name before the rock blundered down on the blistering surface of castle rock.

But Ralph heard the great thing a split second before she and had already thrown himself out of the rock's dangerous path. His head turned at the sound of Louise's voice, followed by that of every other boy, but then was interrupted by the sound of the boulder against Piggy. The conch shattered into a thousand, tiny glimmering fragments. Piggy grunted at the force of the gargantuan thing; his body was immediately crushed. He fell backwards and off the crumbling structure of Castle Rock, plunging then 40 feet below into the roar of white, frothy waves. His head opened and released the contents of his mind in one bloody gust, showering the matter along the grey rocks below.

But then the sea groaned and lurched towards him, swallowing Piggy into its depths, lost within the abyss that would forever be his grave.

* * *

**A/N**: i combined the night of the feast and the night jack raided ralph's camp, just in case you were wondering. i'll include more about simon's death and what-not in the next chapter, and you'll at least get to see what happened between the period of simon's death to piggy's...or something like that. it's summer which means this will be updated regularly now. except i'm getting my wisdom teeth out, and i'm going to avoid the internet during the period in which i'm drugged up. imagine what kind of chapters you would get:

"and then roger banished everyone to narnia as he flew away on his unicorn, armed with the newly dead body of hannah montana"

yeah no.


	10. The Beast

**OKAY — shout out to my awesome readers who have stuck with me through everything. Another shout out to my new readers! You guys are the reason I'm still updating this shiznugget (oh the words I create when I'm bored...). Thank you all so much 3 **

**Soundtrack: it was coldplay but i had a change of heart. so... The Unwritable Girl - Gregory Alan Isakov **

**Disclaimer: **nope dont own it nada.

**Note**: yep we're at M. we made it folks. This chapter was really hard to write, and I'm still not nearly satisfied with it :/ oh well. But I was compelled to update.

**Warning**: M, obviously that means more stuff than the other chapters. yeah. it may not even need the rating boost, but i personally thought it did. you can give me your thoughts.

**Have fun**~

* * *

**The Beast**

"**It's been just one dream we're livin' in.**

**But you're still, and you're bright, and you're quiet,**

**In the heart of it."**

* * *

The world was quiet for what seemed like an eternity. And then came the scream.

It pierced through the sweaty air like a knife upon flesh, ripping it open so that all its entities poured out and soaked the world. The sea groaned, the forest breathed, and from behind the quivering children, a beast slept. When the scream quieted, it seemed as though the entire island shivered, heaving in one labored breath to express its disdain.

Louise realized that her dry throat could no longer cope with her shriek of anguish, and in a moment of bane confusion and blurred anger, she set her sights on Roger and pounced, toppling over with the boy beneath her. His spear rolled over to the side, disregarded with a sense of perturbed apprehension. Louise clawed at his face, her eyes obscured by tears, and then she was babbling nonsense and shrieking and screaming, feeling her lungs burning in anger. Everyone was still for a moment; nobody was quite sure whether to mind Louise or look back at Jack, who had taken on an entirely different persona. The blue eyes, which now shone like ice from his warpaint widened, and the small pinkness of his mouth fell open. He screamed, not in horror but in mutilated victory, then jabbed his spear at Ralph.

"You see!" He yelled, ignoring the sobs from the girl. Roger still struggled from beneath her; he was taken in a moment of shock. After all, he'd only just killed someone.

Someone as in a _human_.

A living, breathing, _thinking_ being.

Purposefully.

Roger sneered and tossed the girl from his flailing limbs, pinning her to the ground beneath him and reaching viciously for his spear. Jack, enlightened by the stark look of fear plastered on his enemy's face, scoured closer to the rocks and shrieks. There was a violent thrash, the coarse sound of uproar, and then the deadly motion of Jack launching his spear towards Ralph — launching to kill.

Louise heard him leave. She heard him cower, turn, and run. She heard him despite the bitter sting of her tears and throb of her mind. She knew Ralph was gone, and that once again, she'd be left to the hunters' jurisdiction. The weight of Roger over her shadowed her frail frame, and as her chest heaved with sobs — _Piggy, oh god, Piggy! And now Ralph...he's gone, he's gone, he's left me and he's gone_...—she could practically feel his fury radiating through his sweaty skin. There's flared marks on his face from where her nails marred his flesh, but aside from that, he held no evidence of his assault. Grey eyes stirred with infatuated rage, and with his left hand, he promptly smashed his fist over her face. She shrieked; the pain was eminent, and already she could feel a bruise swelling under her eye. Her sobs proved to infuriate him more, and with his other hand, he slapped her cheek, seething at the red mark that lingered afterwards.

The hunters, torn between Piggy's demise, Ralph's humiliation, and Louise's terror, turned back and forth, glancing from their redheaded chief to the empty rocks where Piggy once stood. Then, in a great commotion, Jack moved to his second-in-command, staring in disgust at the creature that writhed beneath him. He took up his spear and growled, unsure whether to scold Roger or praise him.

"Roger!" He yelled. Roger glanced up, nodded, and arose, spitting on Louise as he went. Jack's face, flushed in anger, grew redder. "What the _hell_ are you doing?"

Roger spat once more. "Little bitch clawed at me." He wiped his nose, almost like a child, and threw a glare at the girl. "Apparently Ralph didn't teach her _place_ on this island." Jack's ill feelings dispersed and his reddened anger was replaced with a curling grin. Smiling, he met his friend by his side and stared down at the sobbing girl, laughing cattily at the bruises that blossomed along her eye.

"Well then. I suppose we'll have to teach her."

* * *

Louise hurt all over. From the tips of her blistered toes to her swollen, lumpy face, the girl was numb with her pain. She sat back in Jack's cave, her wrists bound tightly behind her bleeding back. Roger had momentarily left, leaving behind the shrewd whip, tethered by a mass of weeping vines, that he had so generously chosen to tear the flesh from his prey's back. Louise had expected she'd be in trouble, but somehow, and quite stupidly, it escaped her that Roger would be the one to execute such punishments. Strangely enough, his deception proved to hurt more than the whip's poisonous tips.

Louise shifted, just to make sure she still could. Her muscles groaned achingly beneath her, and there was a dull thrum in the back of her mind that simply refused to dissipate. She knew he'd be back; she could hear his voice from outside the cave. And she knew that once Roger returned, her seemingly fitting punishment would escalate.

The thought brought bitter bile to her throat. She wasn't daft; sure, she hadn't been the _brightest_, but she wasn't stupid. She knew what would come next. It practically melted in her captor's eye, and with each belt of the whip, the look had intensified. But with that desire came a small flurry of pity. Louise had seen it flash in Roger's expression, almost as if he wished there was a more willing way to handle things.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Roger returned, unsurprisingly accompanied by his chief, who looked as monstrously lustful as ever. It was sad, really. If Gracie had been here, Louise knew Jack wouldn't have paid her a second glance. She would be devoured, used, and assaulted, all because she was simply the only thing that could. Jack met her eyes, gazing wondrously at her wounds, and his smile contorted into poorly concealed desire. Roger shifted awkwardly from beside him—this was, after all, not how he envisioned taking Louise. Not with Jack there beside him. Not with that fuming _hatred_ burning in his prey's eyes.

_What the hell am I thinking_? Roger shook his head, gripping his spear with such a force, he thought it'd snap in two. He didn't _care _whether or not Louise _hated _him or not. This was what he enjoyed doing. Taking things at his will, pleasuring himself on the expense of others. It was what he had _always_ done. Two weeks ago, Roger would've jumped at the opportunity to _have_ Louise like _this_—he wouldn't have had it any other way. But now, a swirl of guilt shadowed his vision, and with a darkened gaze, he tried to look away as Jack proceeded towards the girl.

Louise no longer fought; her legs had grown tired, and already her sore muscles felt like deadened weights on her body. Jack took his time in kneeling down beside her, appraising her with dark, icy eyes. For once, his spear was absent, which left his large, calloused hands to his bidding. His eyes glittered in such a way that Louise shivered, but she refused to permit her fear to penetrate the meager amount dignity she still held. So, with blackened eyes and a tear streaked face, she lifted her chin and met Jack's eyes, holding his gaze until that sickly stupid smirk of his slipped for just a moment.

Hopefully, she had surprised him.

Gathering himself once more, Jack inched closer and allowed his hands to ghost along Louise's bare calves. Her stockings had long ago worn away, and now her skirt remained only as a tattered little thing.

_No_, she thought bitterly. _This shouldn't be too hard for them at all. _

Jack grinned, his lips peeling back into two thin lines, and then he growled, a low, coarse thing, even for Jack. His face paint, which was obviously fresh, glistened in sweat, and with a small snicker, his hands began their assault towards her thighs.

"You'll scream for him to come save you," Jack said in a small breath, his eyes focused hungrily on Louise's bare skin. If her wrists hadn't have been bound, she would have tugged the thin material of her skirt closer to her bruised legs.

Her breath became a strangled gasp when she felt Jack's lips on her throat. His tongue roughly slithered along the curve of jaw, perhaps in a way that was intended to be seductive, but it only turned to be a slobbery mess. Louise could smell his breath, hot and rancid, and found herself resisting the urge to struggle. _It won't do any good...it'll make things worse_.

Jack nipped at her chin, intentionally trying to arouse the dark sort of groan that he knew Roger could sometimes force from the girl. But Louise stayed silent; aside from the tears that fell silently from her eyes, she was quiet. And that, for whatever reason, unnerved Jack to no limits.

Grunting angrily, he crushed his dry lips on the girl's and forced his tongue through her slightly stunned mouth. Her body froze from beneath him, rendering him completely lost to his own desire. He loved that feeling, that rigid tenseness of her bleeding limbs, that slight breath that seemed to reveal all Louise's fears. And yet, she tasted better than he could've hoped. Salty, almost, but perhaps that had been her tears.

Louise winced in pathetic disgust as Jack slid his tongue along her teeth, savoring the very feel of her breathing beneath him. He kissed her roughly and with sloppy care, and when he withdrew for breath, a string of saliva was caught between them. Jack laughed, his face wrinkled in complacent delight. His fingers trailed along her arms, tickling the delicate, frozen hairs there, and then he brought his nails down, scratching angry marks into her already flared skin. As much as she had tried to resist, Louise screamed, for now her heart hammered in hopeless fear and a dripping contempt. She'd never hated anyone more than Jack Merridew, and as he pried her stiff lips apart once more, she felt every muscle within her contract in panicked dread. _No no no I'm not ready I don't want it to be like this not with ropes and tears and pain_...

From somewhere off to the side, Roger grunted. It wasn't his usual amused, arrogant sort of grunt—if anything, it sounded somewhat agitated, as if watching _his_ prey being devoured by Merridew was more than unnerving. A brief thought crossed Louise's mind. It was hideously appalling, but it seemed to restore the small sliver of hope that cowered down deep within the girl. Her heart raced; her mouth had gone slack under Jack's lips, and with a slow blink, she focused herself to all the courage that she still sustained.

_Don't think about Piggy_.

She couldn't. She couldn't think about Piggy, spiraling down from the grey summit of Castle Rock. She couldn't think about his mind splattered across the ocean floor. Or his glimmering specs, crushed and crooked in Jack's loose pocket. If she _did_, there was no way she would _ever_ be able to—

Jack withdrew for a single second, and Louise seized the opportunity to breath. _One breath_. _That's all it takes._ And then Jack's mouth was back against hers, chapped and slippery with his own saliva, but Louise found herself doing the impossible.

Tentatively, she touched her tongue to his. Jack seemed stunned; his mouth fell still against her, but then his desire came back with a fury more ferocious than before. He groaned—a long, strangled thing—and pressed his groin up against her, losing himself in the feel of her mouth moving in time with his. Louise tried to remain calm about it—_you're doing it, you can do this. It's okay_.

And then she looked at Roger.

Jack's mouth was still plastered to hers, clanking their teeth blindly together. Louise reciprocated his kiss quite willingly; she even tried to act enthused. But her eyes, now, were locked with the dark gaze of her _true _hunter, the one that had so mercilessly disposed of her best friend. She stared at him and made an effort to moan into Jack's mouth. Roger's lips twitched ever so slightly, and something in his dark eyes turned ablaze into greed. Louise kept her gaze steady with his as she felt Jack palm crudely at her breast, pining for something she knew she could not give. Roger's eyes flashed, and in that moment, Louise's heart tightened beneath her chest.

Roger was speaking.

"How come you get to go first?" he asked, quite civilly, considering his temper.

Jack lazily relinquished his hold on Louise's mouth and glared up at his friend. "Because I'm chief."

Roger growled. "I got her here. If it hadn't have been for me, she'd be off fucking Ralph."

"Well she's not." Jack's lips curled into a small, thin smile, and with a cursory glance at the girl, he smirked. "And I'm chief. So _I get to go first_."

Roger's eyes darkened. _He_ should be the one to take Louise. _He _should be the one to leave his mark. _He_ had been hunting her since the very beginning, while Jack prowled about and dawdled in his time.

This was _Roger's_ prey.

In a flat and colorless voice, Roger said, "This is _my_ job to do, _Chief_." He added the last word as an insult, a bitter reminder that chiefdom meant _nothing_ to Roger. He didn't have to elaborate on his loyalty to the _last_ boy who had called himself chief.

Jack's face reddened, and silently, he began to release his perch so that he was no longer looming over Louise. The girl tried not to exhaust a breath of relief—the weight that had accompanied the seemingly slim ginger was tremendous, and the now-near-crippling fear did little to help her confidence. But her plan had gone underway; the anger in Jack's icy eyes was less than disputable.

The Chief was angry.

"Don't forget your _position_, Roger," Jack reminded the dark haired boy with a low growl. His red, greasy hair lay tangled and matted over his forehead, producing a near impish look.

"Don't forget your _debts_, Chief." Roger's retort was low and cool; he'd barely lifted his eyes.

Disgusted, Louise looked towards the cave's mouth. She loathed been bickered over like a piece of meat. It was belittling and more than offensive, but if the diversion of an argument was what it took to achieve freedom, Louise was willing to listen to anything. Jack had now risen up to face Roger, and both boys snarled at each other with animal-like aggression. She'd never seen them fight before, but she supposed _anyone_ would fight in such a ludicrously brutish society.

The boys continued to argue, their now rising voices drifting off the cave in sharp unison. Louise's eyes were focused between the bleary chance of rolling (literally _rolling_) towards the cave's gaping mouth or simply biding her time with the two outraged boys. Sweat trickled down her forehead and mingled with what little tears still lingered, and momentarily, she felt as if her plan had failed her. Roger would eventually subside to his superior, and then it would be all over, all this worry and headache for _nothing_—

But the cave's entrance was enticing, and by now, both Roger and Jack were so engrossed in their acrimonious argument that neither of them were wary of Louise. Swallowing, she passed her tongue along her dry (and now revolting bitter) lips and breathed—slowly at first, just as her mother had always told her. Without even a second glance back at the arguing boys, Louise wriggled towards the cave's entrance and fled, although one can hardly call shimmying down the splintered surface of Castle Rock fleeing.

It took exactly thirty seconds before Jack realized Louise had slipped away—she'd been counting as she tumbled limply down the slope of Castle Rock. She heard him cry out from far above, immediately shrieking at Roger in obvious frustration. Louise squeezed her eyes shut; there was still a slim chance of escape. After all, she'd already nearly reached the place of Piggy's..._departure_, and Jack was still blundering by his cave.

But Jack's wrists and ankles weren't bound by a tangle of rough vines. Jack could run. He could walk. He had an entire tribe armed with spears. And Louise? If she ever managed to get back up on her feet, maybe she could hobble away. Maybe.

A few hunters gazed at her curiously, obviously impervious to Jack's coming message. It hadn't yet trickled to what looked to be Robert's post, which was on the cliff where Piggy had taken his final plunge. The cluster of small hunters, most of them younger, scratched their heads idly, unsure whether Louise was meant to be rolling away or not. It seemed in that moment as if they were just as useless as they were impulsive.

Not ten seconds had leaked by until the hunters finally realized that Louise's little show was not a ploy of entertainment. They gathered their spears and shouted manically, running after her. Louise was panicking. There was nowhere to go. Her limbs ached from where Roger had battered his spear against her flesh and Jack had clamped his meaty hands. The sharp crunch of the rocks wasn't easing her pain—they ripped her already irritated skin and tore into her groaning muscles. The bonds itched at her wrists and ankles, and for one bleary moment, Louise felt utterly incapable of hope.

But then she heard Maurice.

"Louise?"

She'd jolted to a standstill at this point, halted finally by the progressive leveling of the downward slope. A swarm of angry voices rattled from behind her, shrieking and blinded by raw anger and bittersweet euphoria. Louise blinked—once, then twice—and stared up at Maurice, only recognizable from his tangle of hair and smooth, even voice. Even in the crazed brightness of hysteria, Maurice seemed calm. He was alone, accompanied by his spear, and with one look at the broken thing below him, he almost faltered. Louise was bruised and beaten, sodden with blood and God knows what else. The boy could hear the raving roars of his tribe from behind him, and suddenly, his heart twitched in the seemingly forgotten emotion of guilt.

Softly, Maurice knelt down beside the girl and touched her shoulder. "What...what happened?" He didn't want to think it had been Jack and Roger; it wasn't a tasteful idea. He'd joined Jack for freedom, not for the suffocation of blatant abuse.

When Louise met his eyes, hers were wide and blank, empty of anything other than utter and total desperation. Quietly, she breathed, "I. Need. To. Get. Out." A pause. "_Now_."

He knew Jack would run rampant if he found out the truth. Maurice would be punished for sure—maybe even _executed_. He wasn't sure anymore. After what happened to Piggy...well...Jack—_Roger_—was capable of _anything_. A perfect product of the Socialism his school had once taught to despise. Even with the cumbersome weight of Jack's looming law wavering above his head, Maurice helped Louise up and hastily untied her bonds, releasing her chaffed and red limbs. The girl looked at him for a moment, stupefied by his impetuous kindness, and with a small nod, she took off for the woods, vanishing into the green thicket.

Maurice stood for a moment, blinded by his own blunder of selflessness, and with a breath, he looked towards where Jack now was, preparing himself for the fate that befell upon him.

* * *

Louise ran.

She ran until her legs burned, until her lungs were like two smoldering coals within her chest. She ran until the noise of Jack turned into the soft hum of flies and the crash of waves became the noiseless whisper of the trees. She ran until Piggy's head reformed into itself in her mind, until the forest became a blanket and the throbbing within her head was only a soft, feathery pillow. She was tired, exhausted, but her heart was intent on escape.

There was a noise from somewhere close by, a soft crack that was barely audible over the girl's strangled, heaving breaths. Her body tensed and her neck was rigid. If there was one thing she had learned from Roger, it was to always assume the worst. _It could just be a pig_. Or maybe Jack. _Perhaps it was a littlun_. Or Roger.

Louise shivered. If she was caught now, the punishment that would entail her would be something far worse than anything Jack could have done before. He would be _livid_—

The noise sounded again, although this time closer. Louise brought her hand close to her chest—a meager attempt at looking somewhat defensive—and waited. It seemed foolishly stupid, waiting until an unknown predator lurked from the woods. But it was the only rational thing Louise think to do. Everything felt very heavy, as if it were shrouded with blurry darkness. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe, and for one brief, dismal moment, she couldn't think.

But then she saw Ralph.

He mirrored her look of clouded fear, and with a slight notion of disbelief, he peered towards her in incredulity.

Slowly, almost as if he was afraid to speak, Ralph softly murmured, "Louise?"

And then she was in his arms, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her head in the soft slope of his shoulder. He stumbled back, caught his balance, and wrapped his arms around her small torso, clutching her close as if she might suddenly evaporate into thin air. It took a moment before he realized that she was sobbing, her warm, bitter tears staining his bare skin. Ralph felt his own cheeks glisten with the burning mark of tears, and through broken, shaken breaths, he held the girl close and allowed his heart to fall in accordance with hers.

Louise was afraid to let go of him. She was afraid that when she did, he would fall away. It was a incessant fear that itched at her heart, and if she'd wanted to, perhaps she may have scratched at it. But she was afraid at what might leak out if she did. It just felt so _surreal_ to be held in Ralph's arms, swallowed up by his warm, _safe_ embrace. She felt that if she blinked, she might wake up tied up in the cave back at Castle Rock.

But there was no danger now. There was only Ralph, Ralph and his pretty blonde hair and soft blue eyes.

And then there was Piggy.

She found herself sputtering nonsense. "Piggy...I...he...we have to find him...he could be hurt..."

Ralph held her tighter. There was nothing else he could say, and he knew it. It had crossed his mind more than once that Piggy was alive and alright, that Roger hadn't _really _jarred that boulder because that was _wrong_ and _savage_ and _murder_...

He didn't allow his thoughts to linger on _murder. _He'd allowed that for far too many times over the course of the past night, and it hadn't earned him any favors.

Grimly, Ralph lifted himself away from Louise, if only to meet her eyes. They were there, dark blue and washed in sorrow, gazing up at him in a fury of hope and despair. The boy swallowed; he'd almost forgotten how much he missed those eyes, and then he took her hand. Her skin was afire with his touch.

"I have a place we can go," he said quietly. Louise was primarily unsure of what he meant, but then she realized it was just _them_ and that Jack would eventually come looking for her. _That's right_. They needed to hide now. The hunt had commenced.

Ralph led Louise through the denseness of the jungle, pausing only to make sure that she was alright. He'd wrought a few injuries from Jack himself; his left eye was already swollen and purple, and there was a gash on the side of his stomach that he knew would later require attention. But for now, his focus was Louise—Louise with her matted hair and too clear eyes, Louise with battered and bloodied flesh and dirty skin, Louise with her tattered garments and bare legs...

Ralph shook his head.

The sky had melted into late afternoon, and by now, they had reached a small sloping hill, littered with feathering bushes and and tiny, sharp dangerous rocks. They moved hastily through the leafage, ignoring the thorns that snagged at their already threadbare clothes. Finally, Ralph stopped and gestured shyly at hole in the foliage, a hole that was conveniently perfectly matched to the boy's body shape. Silently, Ralph pushed Louise towards the improvised entrance, and with a cautionary glance around, he followed.

Ralph's hiding spot was nothing to brag about. If anything, it was poorly thought of and even slightly senseless, but Louise didn't have the mind to linger upon its possible repercussions. It was shelter, and as far as she was concerned, shelter _was_ shelter, even if it only was a brittlely concealed scar in the forestry. Surrounded by the denseness of trees and shrubs, the duo seemed safely hidden for the time being—_but there was no telling what would happen when Jack Merridew had his league of vivacious hunters sniff the area out_.

But for now, it would do.

Feeling the effects of her aching body for the first time, Louise sank to her knees and groaned, utterly consumed with the ever constant pinching pain in her limbs. Even her mouth felt sore from where Jack had so callously pried her lips apart. At the memory, Louise began to shake. It was awful to think that she had _allowed_ him such _pleasures_ in the desperate need to attain freedom. And Roger...

Thoughtlessly, Louise murmured, "I trusted him."

She hadn't realized that she meant Roger, and it only took a few moments for it dawn upon her. She _had _trusted Roger, surely more than she should have. Piggy's barbarous demise flickered once more before her eyes, and then she saw Jack, eyes obscured by his lustful ambition to hunt, and she couldn't control herself—she began to sob. The tears slipped from her eyes, scraping through the dirt and grime that now coated her face. She looked out into the pale pink sky and saw nothing but blood, blood and gruel.

"Simon's gone."

Ralph's voice, despite its certain softness, seemed to crack through the air, leaving Louise feeling stunned and uncertain. She looked up at the blonde through her tears, staring at his blurry silhouette. Her lips fell apart as if to speak, but before she could, Ralph had already begun blathering.

"It was dark...and...I couldn't see very well...we got caught up...there was a fire...and that _Jack_...he was_ yelling _and _screaming_ and I'd never felt more _freedom_ in my entire life...but...but then Simon came...it was really stupid, see...he came from the woods and...and we couldn't _see_..._it wasn't our fault_...we couldn't see..." His voice ended on an endearing note, breaking at the end with a fracturing highness. The noise around their small circle of silence dispersed. Ralph was breathing heavy, broken breaths, and the initial shock of his words had begun to strip itself from Louise.

Louise faltered. "But—but _you_ didn't...it was _Jack_...Simon's _okay_, isn't he?"

Ralph was quiet. His dark blue eyes fumed in sorrowful regret, shadowed by the darkness of the shaded trees. Louise's heart felt as if it was to burst. _No_. Roger had been a monster. Jack had been a monster. But _Ralph_? He _couldn't_ possibly be like _them_..._he couldn't_.

Because if he was, that left Louise with nothing.

With swollen eyes, she stared at the boy, trying her best to piece his shattered expression. The flittering light made everything seem somehow more grey, and with a muffled groan, Louise attempted to turn her bruised back to him–a pitiful show of her ill feelings. Ralph sighed, feeling dense with his own regret, and slowly moved to towards her. She held her lips in a thin line and stared at him in appalled fear, trying to imagine how those _safe_ hands could have hurt a human being, how they could have ever _stolen_ life from a breathing body...

Ralph noted Louise's wounds with pale concern. He reached out to touch her quivering arm, but his palm fell flat against his knee. For once, it felt as though he couldn't make everything better—he _couldn't_ stitch Louise back together, piece by shattered piece, until she was whole again. They were both broken, both torn from one another, and with a silent sob, the realization of their likely demise dawned upon him. It was a cruel, grotesque thought, to think that they had come so far only to die anyway. But everyone would die eventually, even that damned Merridew. _Everyone had to die someday_. That day just seemed to approach faster for some people.

Ralph sucked in a breath and left his hand hovering over Louise's arm, teasing his skin with her jolting touch. She still refused his gaze, focusing instead on harrowing darkness that seemed to engulf their small slice of solace. The boy hesitated, but finally relinquished his fear to desire, and slowly, he allowed his hand to graze past the tiny hairs on her arm. It was instant, the fire that burned beneath their slight touch. Like wood kindled to flame. She smoldered beneath him, losing whatever begrudging apathy she may have felt before.

With bright and suddenly enraptured eyes, Ralph curled his fingers around her slim wrist, feeling her very bones quivering beneath his touch. It was wondrous, the way his hand seemed to burn her, almost as if his fingertips trailed with the soaring rage of fire. Suddenly, it seemed as though the throbbing pain of her wounds was dissipating, and with wide, clearly intrigued eyes, she lifted her chin to meet his gaze, turning in so that her shoulder collided softly with his chest. Ralph stifled a groan; his eyes watered with the itch to gasp, and as Louise raised her hands to softly touch his flustered cheeks, he felt himself break. Everything, _anything_, that had once tethered him by iron restraints were released, and in that moment, Ralph finally decided what he truly wanted.

Ralph wanted Louise.

Carefully, as if not to startle her, he touched his lips to hers, melting as everything began to pour into place. It seemed so surreally natural for them now, for their lips to graze, stammer, and then meet again, this time only with intensified desire. Louise took Ralph's lip between her own, shivering at his warmth, and allowed their mouths to fold into one. His tongue passed over her mouth, teasing her with his sweet taste. Minutes became allusions of time, and with each dragging second, Ralph and Louise fell farther into each other. She tasted bittersweet, like ashes and honey. Like triumph and tears.

Slowly, her hands moved from his face to his firm shoulders, indulging in the simple steadiness of his form. He was like a rock—_her _rock. Ralph kept her anchored to reality, bound against the blurry shame that would become insanity. Without him, she would break, and yet with him, she felt herself shattering.

His kisses intensified—they were longer, with each suppressed moan came an equally fervent desire. It exploded from within them, showering them in its fire of lust, and as Ralph drew his tongue about Louise's teeth, she felt her wits erupt. Her hands drifted from his shoulders to the contours of his chest, touching each indent and slope with absent minded affection. His arms encircled her body, taking each fleeting moment as a gift. Their noses bumped, but not a noise was uttered. Ralph withdrew his mouth from her own, feeling his heart hammer loudly against his chest when she groaned at the separation. His lips were cold and moist from where hers had been, and with a rush of heat, he trailed hungry, desperate kisses along her jawline, although he knew his appetite could never really be satiated. He was empty for her; he lips, his heart, his _mind_...they were all hollow. Vacant. Void. Empty without Louise.

So he devoured her, trailing his tongue along her neck. He closed his eyes, knowing Roger's mark would be there screaming at him, and with a sudden surge of endearment, he kissed Louise lightly. Her heart beat against his, as if it was the only thing to beat for. She fluttered helplessly, arching herself into him, and with a grunt, Ralph nearly lost control of himself. They toppled over, Ralph struggling to remain above her, and with eager, shaking hands, he reached for her thin, tattered shirt.

Louise was battered, broken from herself and broken from her exploits. She froze, rigid and stale, when his fingertips ghosted her stomach, dipping in below her shirt, but her flaring anger was countered by the burn of his touch. It spread, hot and electric, through her aching body, and with a poorly suppressed groan, she lay quavering as Ralph's hands strayed from her stomach and towards her chest. His lips returned to hers, as if to assure her of his devout affections, and she stilled. Ralph's hands, tentative but ardent, found themselves at her breasts. Louise felt dangerously warm. She made a small noise, and Ralph sought that as her consent. He moved his lips against hers, growing precariously close to the edge of oblivion, and in unrequited unison, his hands touched her breasts, feeling every slope and curve as if to memorize her form. She smiled beneath his kiss; her happiness, although gilded by blind infatuation, dizzied her heart, and for one single moment, the raw and thickening pain of Piggy and Simon's deaths seemed to lessen. Her burdens were lifted; each touch, each soft groan and kiss, alleviated her heavy heart. So when Ralph audaciously pulled her torn and ragged blouse from over head, she had little to complain about it. His mouth was everywhere at once; her neck, her collarbone, the small slope of her stomach...and then his _hands_. The touched her thighs, growing treacherously close to where her skirt met her skin. But even then, they didn't stop.

They both realized what was going to happen. It almost felt like a cold, cruel slap in the face. Their dignity, their pain, their _sense_ had been reduced to _this_. But it was alright, because when it happened, Louise knew it would happen fast. And it would be bliss.

Ralph, his blonde hair mussed and disheveled, peeked up with his dark blue eyes, his lips parting from her tingling flesh. Her heart sunk at his hesitation; she could sense that he was feeling bashfully unsure, and with reddened cheeks, he forced her gaze to his.

"L-Louise..." His voice was hoarse and strained, so blatantly troubled by his innate disagreements. He could already feel himself growing restless; sure, there had been _dreams_, but he'd never experienced it like _this_.

Louise smiled, although it felt unnatural. "Yes?" She found her that voice sounded breathlessly similar. It was queerly discontenting to hear herself that way.

Ralph paused, purposefully fixing his eyes away from Louise. She managed not to grin; _tempting, is it, Ralph? Even the golden Ralph has his weaknesses_...

"I-I don't think..." His voice was lost. "I mean—_are you sure?" _It was a pitiful attempt at reason, and a crude one at that. Louise's smile tightened. Her fingers found his hair, and with bright, damp eyes, she nodded at him.

* * *

Louise had been right. It happened fast.

Everything had been a blur, and through the pain that nearly split her body in two, she found warmth. Warmth in Ralph, who moved above her, whose mouth would momentarily brush her own, a vague reminder that he _wasn't_ Jack, he _wasn't_ Roger. He was Ralph. The bliss, although delayed, followed after the pain dimmed. It exploded like rain behind her eyes, shimmering throughout her soiled, tattered body. It was strangely perplexing how someone else could _do_ that to her. How someone could cause so much _pain_ and _beauty _at the same time.

After, when Ralph collapsed heavily upon her chest, she threaded her fingers through his sweaty, matted hair, listening in sightless affection as his heavy breaths softened into gentle, boyish snores. Louise wondered how he found sleep so easily, how he could sleep with knowledge of Simon's murder and Piggy's fall, how he could _sleep_ after they—

She couldn't say the word. She knew it, surely, but she couldn't say it. It felt so much more sickeningly real to say the awful thing. Ralph mumbled something incoherent in his slumber; Louise liked the way his body felt over hers, strong and ever-present. Her heart was thudding, a gavel for her injustice, and with a quiet sigh, she managed to close her eyes. Her body ached all over, and there was a ripening pain between her legs. But she had become accustomed to pain; it was no stranger, thanks to Roger.

Love was an indecent word; it was far too vague to ever capture the true essence of human sentiment.

Fire. Fire seemed to express Louise's feelings for Ralph. She felt fire, raging and always bright, but also perilously destructive and unrestrained.

Fire, at times, could burn, and Louise very confidently could say that Ralph had the same deleterious nature.

* * *

**A/N**: this just kind of happened and I've been having really bad writer's block, so I have no idea when I'll update again. But I promise I will. gah this is taking forever. haha. AND IT SCREWED WITH MY OUTLINE AH. But the song for this, it's pretty much the theme of the entire story. I just like it. It just goes.

Anyways. Feel free to review. Sorry if that wasn't what you expected in terms of...YOU KNOW...but quite frankly, I wrote where I was comfortable. And also, I secretly prefer her with Roger, so I'm starting to have a hard time writing with her Ralph. But I'm still writing her with Ralph atm, so don't get any ideas that my favoritism is deciding anything, because it's not. Sorry.

also I'm off to England (OFF TO MERRIDEWWWWWWW'S LAND. sorry. i could not resist) on Friday but I'll have WiFi and stuff so hopefully I'll get some time to update this.

**END :D**


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